Noble Snakes
by mizbehave
Summary: Sixten year old Adelinda is thrown into Hogwarts three years after the war to be placed in the least appropriate house, discover a dangerous bloodline and find love in unapproved places; but as her life is torn apart, will the Golden Trio and their enemies be able to help her keep it together? *Previously called Amoretto, now being rewritten. Rated M for future scenes.
1. Chapter 1

"_Mia adorata, _hurry now!"

The bedroom looked as though an werewolf had transformed in the midst of it. Clothes were strewn everywhere, muggle items littered the unmade bed, and make up was scattered across the girlish pink vanity. With a flourish of her wand, old Adelinda Isis Amoretto sent everything spinning into its proper place in her trunk; she was packed and the only thing left to do before departing was prepare herself mentally for her first year at Hogwarts. Five years late but finally happening, the only comfort that the girl took in it was that she would not be the only one behind in her classes. As the war had begun, so many children had been pulled out of the school; the ones that chose to return would start where the left out.

In truth, the war was not the reason the sixteen-year-old witch had not attended Hogwarts. Adopted by a magical family who had disassociated themselves with the wizarding world and moved to Italy, her mother's native country, she had been assumed a simple, non-magical Muggle-born. As she grew, her parents realized this to be far from true; she had magic, and it was strong. Knowing the prejudice against Muggle-borns was leaking into Hogwarts more and more every day, having attended the school themselves, her parents opted to keep her in Muggle school and instruct her in the field of magic on their own time. At age nine, Adelinda's magic was too strong to hide from the other children, and her parents pulled her from school. From then to age sixteen, it was home-schooling and magical tutors. She was a bright and powerful witch, learning quickly and surpassing her home lessons, but there would still be lower-level classes to take, new things to learn, a new community to assimilate into. She had spent little to no time around other witches her age, had never met a wizard anywhere close. And yet she was excited.

She had gotten a letter each year since having turned eleven; her father was British and had been a favorite of Dumbledore's at Hogwarts, and she supposed that was why McGonagall was so keen on her coming to the school. She also happened to be particularly fond of the girl herself, having tutored her quite often over the summers between school years. As the Second Wizarding War began, however, her parents decided that Hogwarts was not safe for Adelinda, and they stayed as far off of the radar as they possibly could, making limited trips out into the magical community.

But here she was, three years after the war had ended, making her first trip to the school alongside those students who had fought in the war and had never returned. It felt shameful, almost, but she pushed that feeling aside as she closed her trunk and checked herself over in her vanity. She was dressed simply in Muggle clothing, jeans and a snug camisole, black cardigan thrown over it to shield against the wind that would surely blow against her as she flew to a portkey to begin her journey.

"I'm coming, Mama," she called out. Her voice was lightly accented, a mix of British and Italian—she was fluent in the language but spoke English as her first, and yet a sweet Italian accent, not too heavy, stuck to her words as a result of having lived in Italy since she was small. Wand in hand, she levitated her trunk and the cage which held her owl behind her as she made her way into the living room to greet the one and only Harry Potter.

"There you are, dear, you've kept Mr. Potter waiting!" her father scolded gently, rising from his seat on the couch as Mr. Potter did the same. The twenty year old looked older than his years, and much older than he did in photos—it was to be expected, she supposed, after the life he had lived. He was handsome though short, with his disheveled black hair and Quidditch-made body.

"Oh, I'm in no rush," the Chosen One told her father with a polite smile. "I remember my first year. It's very exciting." He took a step forward and extended a hand to Adelinda, who let her trunk settle onto the carpet and tucked her wand into her belt

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Potter," she greeted a bit shyly, shaking his hand and meeting his green eyes. They were more vibrant than the books had described.

"No need for the formalities, it's Harry," he told her warmly. "It's good to meet you too, Adelinda. Are you ready to head off? We have a lot of shopping to do."

Her eyes lit up a bit at that and he grinned at her. What girl didn't love to shop? They were headed to a portkey which would take them to London—from there they would go to Diagon Alley, a place she had visited only once in her life despite having been born very near it. Harry was returning to Hogwarts along with many others who had fought in the war beside him, now that the wizarding school had been returned to its full staff and full glory and would have enough students in attendance to be open for teaching—and she was sure the three years had been needed for many to heal after the war. It was something she would never quite understand, having been so far from it all, and she was shamefully grateful for that fact and forever thankful for those who had fought and won it. She looked up to the Golden Trio for that very reason. "I'm more than ready," Adelinda told him happily. She turned towards her parents. "I'll miss you both. I promise to write to you every week, I know you—" at this she cast a playful glance towards her mother, "—will be very upset if I don't. _Ti amo, ti amo tanto_, come hug me so we can go!"

"So excited to leave us!" her mother teased, half-joking. "No, do not feel bad, I would be excited as well. I know you have waited so long for this, and it will be good for you. I'm sure Mr. Potter here will see you along safely and I will try not to worry too much, _cara_." She embraced both her parents long and lovingly, her father telling her not to get into too much trouble and to stay away from those young wizards, her mother telling her the opposite with a teasing wink, making her blush red and exclaim, "Mama! Not in front of company!"

Harry held back a chuckle at that. "Mr. and Mrs. Amoretto, it was nice seeing you. I'll remind her to write once we get to Diagon Alley so you won't worry, and again as we get to the school. She'll be safe, don't you worry."

Her parents saw them out the door, and from there they made their way to the broom shed, where they had a moment of confusion of whose was whose. "You must be a talented flyer, for your parents to buy you the latest of the Firebolts," Harry laughed, and she turned pink in the cheeks.

"My mother taught me when I was ten," Adelinda told him, taking her broom. Her belongings were still in the living room; they would be waiting for her at Hogwarts. "I didn't have many friends out here in this rural part of Italy, so I spent my free time flying. I love it."

"It is a wonderful pastime," he agreed. They mounted their brooms and she followed him to the portkey—a heavy football that had to have been filled with something and which had been placed in a clearing in the middle of the woods far behind her house. Her parents owned acres on acres of land, inherited from her mother's family, who had owned the house that sat on said land for several generations. It took five minutes to fly to it, but it would have taken forty to walk. As they landed he took her broom, tucking both his and hers into a sort of sheath that held them snugly to his back. She wondered where he had found such a thing. "Alright, Adelinda…I know you've never used a portkey. I need you to hold tight to the portkey with one hand, and you need to hold tight to my hand with the other. You might feel a little sick, but that's normal. Whatever you do, don't lose your grip."

She felt a little queasy. It was true, she had never used a portkey—she had never used a lot of magical items, and she was nervous. But on the count of three they both grabbed the portkey and she kept a death grip on his hand, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt a sharp pull in her belly and the world spinning around her. After what felt like forever but could only have been a few moments, she felt their feet touch the ground. "Was it as bad as you thought it would be?" he asked her, removing their brooms from the strap on his back.

"Worse," Adelinda admitted with a grimace. She was a bit embarrassed when he laughed but she was sure it was not in a mean way.

"You'll get used to it," he assured her. "Follow me again. We're just outside of Diagon Alley." They mounted their brooms again, and fifteen minutes were in the middle of a busy stone road that reminded her of the towns in Italy. She had not been there since she turned eleven; her parents had taken her to Ollivander's, world's best wand shop. They wanted her to have the best.

"Is it always this busy?" she asked, glancing around. She felt very out of place in her muggle clothing, but Harry was dressed similarly; that offered her some relief as she eyed the robed men and women and children as they eyed the Chosen One and then her, surely wondering who the young girl was.

"Not quite," he told her, offering to take her broom again. "But at this time of year, yes. All the parents are here doing last-minute school shopping for their children. You have your money?" She nodded. She had worn a small black pack, which had an outfit to wear to the train station the next day, a few essentials, and her little purse full of Wizarding money which her parents had gone over time and time again with her just to ensure that she knew what it all was and would not be ripped off.

Harry assisted her in all her shopping as he did his; together they went down their lists, getting all of their books, stocking up on plenty of parchment, quills, and inkpots, and robes. Harry had outgrown his and Adelinda had never owned any. She found herself distracted quite often; she had never been around so much magic. Her parents had begun to use casual magic more in their home after the war had ended and not just for her classes, but none of it was ever like what she saw here; there were little red and orange magical fires burning in place of street lights as it darkened and moving displays in shop windows. In the wizarding equivalent of a pet shop she found small creatures she had always seen in her books but never in person and Harry obliged to let her pet and play and look for awhile, seeming amused by her amazement. She decided she was done after she got bitten by something small and scaly and odd looking that she probably should not have been touching in the first place and finally, hours after they had arrived, they made their way to The Leaky Cauldron where two rooms waited for them. Their brought all of their things to their separate rooms and went downstairs to get something to eat.

As they ate their dinner and sipped butterbeer, a drink Adelinda had never tried before and loved, they chatted a bit—in between the people who came over to dote on Harry and friends who were returning to Hogwarts as well. Everyone seemed nice enough, and she was happy that no one asked why he was escorting her—McGonagall had said that he was in Italy for the summer as it was, and it saved her parents a trip, but Adelinda found it odd that such a famous wizard would come to escort her; let alone know of her existence. As the pub grew louder and the night grew late, they said goodnight and made their way to their rooms.

"Be ready in the morning," Harry told her before they departed. "We're going to floo over to a friend's house, and go with them to King's Cross Station, where we'll leave for Hogwarts."

She went into her room. She could hear the talking and laughter of the pub beneath the creaky wooden floors, and light and noise from the street came in through her cracked window. As it turned out, Adelinda loved this magical community so far. The warm hustle and bustle, the closeness, how everyone seemed to know each other. There was no evidence in the pub of the struggle that had taken place three years ago. She took a seat in the window, leaning against the frame and curling her legs up to her chest, just watching the people on the street below her with interest, and that's how she fell asleep.

**_i've noticed that the readers who drop off usually do so after the first chapter, or the third chapter. i know they are a bit boring, but i promise it gets a lot more interesting! the first chapters are getting a feel for the story and building up to the drama. please keep reading and reviewing, compliments and constructive criticism are both very welcome :-)_**


	2. Chapter 2

Adelinda woke up to a kink in her neck, a fluttering in her stomach, and a knocking on the door that turned out to be Harry making sure she was up. As she bustled about her room to get ready, all her bags still on the bed where she had left them last night, she thought about where she would be at the end of the day. Hogwarts. The thought gave her anxiety and nervousness gave way to excitement as she did her make up—using Muggle cosmetics, of course—lining olive-colored eyes in a smoky black and putting just a touch of gloss on her lips. She didn't want to overdo it for her first day; she was already worried that she wouldn't fit in. Maybe the other students wouldn't like her; maybe they would shun her because she had never been a part of the war and that made her a coward, they were all so brave…she had many fleeting, frightened thoughts but one stuck. What if the prejudice against Muggle borns had not actually been eradicated within the student body? She forced herself to smile into the mirror. "That's silly," she murmured quietly. "Of course it has been." She gave herself one last look. The other students might not like her, but at least she looked alright; long, dark hair waved subtly down her back and her pale skin was shining. She wore her uniform skirt, black and pleated and hitting just above her knees, a camisole and the black cardigan from the day before overtop it. Simple, and once on the train, she wouldn't have much to do to get ready. Adelinda gathered herself and her belongings and met Harry downstairs at the pub, where they each got a small bite to eat and a snack before heading to the fireplace.

"Have you used the floo network before?" He asked her. He had shrunken all of their belongings to fit in the bags they carried on their backs. When she said no, he nodded. "You take a handful of the floo powder, stand in the fireplace, and say very clearly your destination as you toss the powder down. We're going to the Burrow, that's where we will meet a few other students who are returning to Hogwarts as well. You go first." Adelinda was, admittedly, a bit apprehensive about going first—she would be landing in an unfamiliar house with unfamiliar people. Harry assured her that he would be right behind her, and she took a handful of the powder, stepped into the ashes of the fireplace, did as she was told, and was whirled away to wherever "the Burrow" was.

When she opened eyes she had not realized she had closed, there were several people in front of her, all redheaded but one and looking a bit overly excited. "I, uhm…I'm Adelinda," she said, blinking at them and stepping slowly out of the fireplace. The lilt at the end of her name made it sound like a question. "Mr. Potter told me to come here…"

The family seemed to realize they were staring and who she presumed was the mother came forward, taking the girl's hands. "Oh, yes, dear! We were expecting you!" the plump woman said warmly. She reminded Adelinda of her own mother. "I'm Mrs. Weasley, this is George, Ron and Hermione, Ginevra—"

"Ginny, mum." The girl in reference stepped forward. She looked to be close to Adelinda's age and was very pretty, freckles dancing across her pale skin and her red hair long and straight. Had she said Ron? Hermione? Was this the Weasley family she thought it was? She was meeting another of the Golden Trio, and this must be his family. And Hermione! She had always read of how intelligent and brace the brown, curly-headed girl was, and she looked up to her the most…Adelinda was in awe and struggling not to show it.

"Hi," the sixteen year old greeted shyly, and Ginny hugged her.

"Mum likes to bombard people with love, and the boys were curious about you," Ginny murmured to her with a smile. "Don't be nervous." Adelinda glanced around at everyone.

"A bit hard not to be," she said back softly with a smile, and Ginny laughed. She had greeted everyone and was now leading Adelinda out of the room as she heard Harry's voice. He must have just arrived. She saw Ginny give a loving glance towards where they had just left but did not turn around. This must be the Ginny that Harry was involved with…Adelinda was ashamed of herself for knowing all of this, but she had lived vicariously through wizarding magazines and books her father snuck to her. "Do you want anything to eat or drink before we leave?" Adelinda shook her head, and Ginny shrugged as if to say 'suit yourself,' getting herself a mug of something orange and a piece of bread.

"How are we getting to the train station?" Adelinda asked. They took a seat at the large wooden table. She was only half-listening to the girl as she looked around her in amazement. The dishes were scrubbing themselves and the clock on the wall had faces and locations all belonging to the Weasley children. The house was so warm and inviting, so cozy, so magical. She loved it. Barely noticing as Harry walked in and kissed his girlfriend happily, she jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, dear, I didn't mean to scare you!" she looked up to see a happy-faced older man smiling down at her. He had red hair just like the others—the father, maybe? "Arthur Weasley, dear, the father of all these lovely children. How was your trip here? Good and uneventful, I hope. Oh, you're going to love Hogwarts." She couldn't help but smile at his unashamed rambling; he was a pleasant man and made her feel much more at home there. "Well! I hope all you children are ready to leave. I'm sure you can't wait to see the school finally returned to its former glory, and Adelinda, I'm sure, is very excited to see it for the first time at all…let's head out!"

Somehow, some way, she, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Arthur, and Mrs. Weasley all fit into this small, rickety blue car after saying goodbye to everyone. Their trunks were all shrunken to fit into the trunk, and each other them held their caged owls on their laps. It made for a very cramped trip, but Adelinda was too nervous to notice. She gasped as the car jerked into the air, though, and Mrs. Weasley turned around to put a comforting hand on her knee. "Oh, we should have warned you, dear!" she said apologetically. "This is not a regular Muggle car." She could see that very clearly now, she thought with shock, leaning around Ginny a bit to see out the window as they ascended higher into the air. She was not nervous, it wasn't unlike flying—but she had never been in anything but a Muggle car, and those cars certainly did not fly.

"Can't the Muggles see us?" Adelinda questioned curiously as they passed over towns.

"This button right here makes us invisible!" Arthur told her with pride. She was quiet, just observing. The family was talking and laughing, Ron and Ginny bickering and Hermione joining in every now and then, all of them asking her questions about Italy and her family and her schooling. It made for an entertaining ride, and finally, after what seemed like no time at all, they had landed. "Hurry now, children!" They all spilled out of the car, groaning and stretching with the happiness of escaping that cramped space—they had certainly all begun to feel it after the first fifteen minutes—and they all fetched trolleys, putting their trunks and their bags and their owls into them.

"What platform is it?" she asked curiously, as they continued to pass each of the platforms…she didn't see any witches or wizards, but then, she didn't suspect she would at a Muggle train station. She was confused.

"Platform 9 ¾," Hermione told her. "The Muggles can't see it, we have to go through a wall—ah! Here it is." They came to a stop in front of a blank brick wall. Had she said they had to go through it?

"You just need to get a running start," Mrs. Weasley explained to her. "Don't think about it, or you will hit the wall, and you will hit it hard! We can't have that. On the other side is the Hogwarts express, we will meet you over there. You first, dear, you first!" Struck with a sudden insecurity at this family watching her do this for the first time, she swallow and kept such a tight grip on her trolley that her knuckles turned right, and getting a running start as they had said and closing her eyes, terrified of the impact that was sure to come, made her way to the wall…. ….and felt nothing. She came to a stop and opened her eyes. The train station had transformed. There was the noise of owls and excited children, the hum of an idle train and the worrying of a hundred parents. She heard the rest of the group coming through the station behind her.

"See, that wasn't so bad, dear," the eldest Weasley woman's warm voice comforted her, a hand on her back. "Let's get going, children." She had taken to the woman quite well. She made Adelinda feel comfortable, welcome. After hugs and good-byes and kisses, all of this warmly including Adelinda, they carried their luggage to their compartments and stowed it away. She noticed Hermione going a separate way after kissing Ron.

"She's Head girl," Ginny explained. "No surprise there. McGonagall was quick to ask it of her when she found out that she would be returning to finish her Seventh year. She sits in a separate compartment, with the Head boy and the prefects. I'm sure she will enjoy that."

Ron scowled. "Malfoy better not say anything to her," he said unhappily. He, Ginny, Harry, and Adelinda all sat in the same compartment. She felt the train begin to roll along the tracks and lifted the little curtain on the window.

"I'm sure even he isn't stupid enough to do that," Harry said confidently. She kept quiet, not having any idea what they were speaking of. The journey was slow. All four of them fell asleep at one point to be woken up by a knocking on the door.

"Last chance to get something from Honeydukes Express!" a woman's voice called, and the boys got up—it was the fastest Adelinda had seen either of them move, she thought—exiting the compartment to get treats.

Ginny looked after them warmly. "Just like old times," she said softly, and realized Adelinda had woken as well. She seemed to pull herself out of memories, and for the first time Adelinda wondered how hard it was for everyone to be returning to the school. There were good memories, she was sure—but for the last year or two that they had been in attendance, was it anything but bad? Were they as nervous as she was for their own, very different reasons? "We should probably get changed into our uniforms while the boys are out." The girls pulled down their trunks. Adelinda pulled the grey knit knee-high socks onto the legs and slipped her feet back into her black shoes, shedding the cardigan and replacing it with the required white collared blouse and grey knit vest, pulling her brand-new black robe over it.

"I feel a little like I'm playing dress-up," Adelinda admitted to the redhead, who smiled.

"You'll get used to it," Ginny told her. "It's hard to believe a sixteen-year-old witch has never been to a wizarding school. You're going to love it." She watched the Muggle born curiously as she fixed up her make up. "Muggle make up is odd."

Adelinda shrugged with a smile. "I grew up in the Muggle world," she said softly. "Anything that could be done without magic, was done without magic…I suppose I could learn cosmetic spells, but this is just as easy." Ginny shook her head. She didn't think she could ever tolerate the little mascara wands and messy eye shadow. As they boys returned to the compartment, arms full of goods that they shoved into their trunks as they pulled their robes out, her heart began to pound. She was unbelievably nervous now. They had explained the houses to them. They were all in Gryffindor, and she was praying that she got sorted into it. They thought that she might be. That or Ravenclaw, they said, she seemed to smart (she blushed at that comment, made by Harry). She wouldn't know anyone else in any of the other houses. She could always make friends, but it wasn't her strongest talent…it wasn't really a talent she had at all, and she was surprised she was getting along so well with Ron and Ginny and Harry. They had a knack for making people feel welcome, she supposed. She felt the train stop, and swallowed. Ginny told her to leave her belongings behind, they would be brought to the common room of whichever house she was sorted into, so she tucked her wand into the deep pocket of her robe and followed them off of the train.

Hermione made her way to them. "Adelinda, McGonagall wants me to bring you with the first years, since you're to be sorted," she explained. Adelinda just nodded, busy observing…all the smaller students, the first years, were gathering around nervously, excitedly…the students returning to Hogwarts had mixed reactions. Some greeted old friends with extreme happiness; some just walked along, staring, as if they were seeing a place they had never seen before. They greeted professors that had come to see all the students, they stood to the sides and just watched. Some seemed sad, distant, others excited. Such an odd, wide range of emotions that Adelinda supposed made sense. She followed behind Hermione and listened absently to the chatter of all the first years at her back. She felt a little silly being sorted with the first years, when she should have been five years ahead of them. Her heart pounded in her ears and her stomach was turning with anxiety, and she did her best to ignore it. They went to the castle in boats, accompanied by a large man (was he a man? Maybe a giant? Maybe mixed, she couldn't tell) that Hermione referred to as Hagrid, another person that greeted Adelinda very kindly. She was going to get along well with him, she could tell. All of the other students, Hermione told her, had gathered in the Great Hall already; as she led the first years into the Great Hall through the monstrous double doors, she was taken aback by the scene before her. Banners hung from what she first referred to as the ceiling, but as she looked up she saw the beautiful night sky, stars—or were they candles?—and the room was filled with a sweet smell. All of the students sat at long tables. There weren't quite as many as she thought there would be, but still a great amount; there were enough first years, however, to double the amount of students sitting at the wooden tables. She felt like all eyes were on here, standing at the front of the first years, and she felt out of place.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts!" a familiar voice rang out, and everyone quieted. "It has been a long three years. Some of you have been here during those three years, helping to restore the school. Some of you took time to heal, as many of us needed to. I know there are many, many students returning to us for their final year, and I welcome you especially. I welcome you warmly." It was McGonagall, standing at the head of the Great Hall. Another familiar face. She gave her welcoming speech, only a few moments long. Simple and sweet. "And now, today, we welcome all former students back, we welcome the new students in, and we welcome a wonderful year. Before we begin the traditional sorting, we have one student, all the way from Italy, who must be sorted into a house; six years late, but she is as brilliant as Miss Granger, I can tell you that." Her cheeks burned scarlet and she was certain that Hermione's did as well.

"Miss Adelinda Amoretto!" Adelinda felt her heart drop into her stomach as her name was called. The moment she was been both looking forward to, and dreading. As she walked towards the stool that sat before the headmaster, she glanced around her. Everyone stared, everyone watched her walk up, and she did her best not to make awkward eye contact. As she passed the Gryffindor table, she felt a hand touch hers and turned, her nerves were calmed slightly by Ginny's warm smile. She took a seat upon the stool and placed the Sorting Hat atop her head.

"_Ah, dear Adelinda…a little late, are we not? But oh, I see why, I see why, and I understand…"_ the scratchy voice breathed to her. "_You are a smart girl, very smart indeed, perhaps as smart as Ms. Granger when she came here…and that is quite an achievement…you are brave, like her, in your own quiet way…smart and brave a Gryffindor does make…but oh, you are cunning, so cunning, and the potential to be quite a manipulative girl...Your name is fitting, is it not? Noble and a noble girl you are. Quite clever as well, and—oh!—a Legilimens! But that is a secret, it is! Don't you worry, it is safe with me, dear girl…I believe I know just where to put you…"_

Adelinda jumped as the Sorting Hat bellowed its decision to the students who watched her eagerly.

_"SLYTHERIN!"_


	3. Chapter 3

Slytherin.

There was distant clapping, and Adelinda's wide-eyed gaze went to the Gryffindor table, where all four of her newly-made acquaintances were watching her. Ron looked surprised, Ginny and Hermione and Harry concerned…they had explained the houses to her, and they had explained that among all four, Slytherin was the least liked. In fact, the Slytherin house was _hated…_and after the war, she didn't imagine it was any more liked than it was before. She could only hope that the four Gryffindors wouldn't turn away from her, now that she was a member of their rival house; they were the only people she knew. Trying to push those thoughts aside, Adelinda stood and placed the Sorting Hat onto the stool behind her. As she made her way to the Slytherin tables, the next student's name was being called; the normal sorting of the first years had begun, and all attention was directed towards the student being sorted. She was relieved.

Of all four houses, Slytherin seemed to have the least returning students. They were prejudiced, Harry had told her, many of them being the sons and daughters of death-eaters. Many had died in the war, many had gone into hiding because of their affiliations with the late Dark Lord, and many had been too ashamed to return to the school. It made sense, and also made her dread having been sorted into this house…her heart was pounding against the walls of her chest as she reached the first table. There was a tall, thin girl smiling at her with equally thin lips. "Adelinda, was it?" she greeted. "You can sit here. Pansy Parkinson-welcome to Slytherin." The teenager gave a smile. She had been raised polite, and though unhappy and nervous, would not toss her manners aside.

"Thank you," she said softly, taking a seat beside the girl. Woman, really…Adelinda assumed her to be one of the few returning Slytherin seventh-years. She was beautiful in a cold sort of way, with black hair that provided a stark contrast against her white skin and fell just above her shoulders. That was the end of their conversation as attention was again turned to the students being sorted. Each time a student was sorted into Slytherin, her housemates clapped, some whistled, and the other houses fell silent, save for a few students who were perhaps showing sympathy. She found it hard to focus on the sorting and instead let her thoughts and gaze drift to the Gryffindors; she had wanted so strongly to be sorted into that house. Her father had been a Gryffindor when he had attended Hogwarts. Would he be disappointed upon hearing that his daughter had been sorted into the house she was _sure _he had hated in his teenage years? And what of the friends she had made? Would they still consider her a friend? The anxiety she had been experiencing before being sorted had only worsened afterwards. Adelinda was not normally such a nervous person, and the anxiety began to turn to anger; an emotion she much preferred over fear.

"And with Mr. Zabini having been the last student to be sorted, let us feast!" McGonagall raised her chalice to the students in a cheer, and food appeared in abundance before them; Adelinda realized she was starving and marveled at the cuisine before her and the way it had just appeared. Elves, she remembered. Her father had explained them to her. She glanced towards the last boy to have been sorted. He sat beside an older boy who may very well have been his brother, both with a beautiful, dark complexion and handsome features. If the last name was any indication, they had Italian family—perhaps Adelinda could use that to her advantage and make a friend or two here in this cold house.

"So, Adelinda…" her attention was drawn back to the dark-haired girl at her side. "…whereabouts are you from?"

Adelinda had begun gathering food on her plate, but stopped when she saw how little the other Slytherin girls were spooning onto their dishes; they were all so thin, she couldn't be surprised, but also couldn't help feeling a bit self-conscious. "I was born here in England," she explained, twirling her spoon in a small bowl of pudding, a nervous habit. "But raised in Italy." She glanced towards the two Slytherin boys, and met the older one's eyes. She looked away immediately.

"How interesting," Pansy said, her dark eyes fixed on Adelinda's.

"I suppose," she responded cautiously. As Pansy began to make more meaningless small talk, Adelinda observed the people around her, all the while keeping up simple conversation with the girl. All of the students seemed to know each other well, even the first years—in fact, many of the new students seemed to be family of the older Slytherins. It wasn't a surprise, really; Hermione had explained to her that almost all of the Slytherins were pureblood, and with a limited number of pureblood families left in the wizarding world, they were all connected in one way or another. With that thought, Adelinda realized for the first time that she was probably the only Muggle-born student to have _ever _been sorted into Slytherin, and the thought made her blanch; if the Slytherins were truly all so closely knit, they had to know that. She would be shocked if they didn't.

"Adelinda." The woman's sharp voice brought her attention back to the people in front of her. "Adelinda, this is Draco."

"Malfoy." the sharp correction came from the lips of a fair-skinned man, and when her eyes met his she felt her cheeks regain a bit of their color. His hair was just as pale as his skin, and his eyes an intimidating, cool grey.

"Draco, here—" Pansy seemed to taunt him, and he sneered ever so slightly in her direction; for the most part, however, he seemed indifferent to everything around him. "—is Head Boy, and will be showing you around. I would do it, but my Prefect duties require me to attend to all these useless first years." Her false sweetness gave way for just a moment with this statement.

"It's lovely to meet you," Adelinda said in a voice void of anything but a polite kindess. She extended a hand towards him, but when he did not reach out to shake it, instead giving her a curt nod, she dropped it back to her lap awkwardly. How rude.

"Draco," Pansy scolded, but her eyes shone with amusement. "Don't mind him, he's always grumpy…always has something to complain about." The blond paid no mind whatsoever to the girl's teasing, his eyes still on Adelinda. When she met them again, her embarrassment at his rejection slowly giving way to irritation, he looked away. After what felt like ages, McGonagall dismissed the students by year; the first years were the first to leave, of course, led out by their prefects, and afterward all of the younger students had vacated the Great Hall, the remaining were free to leave. Adelinda waited for Malfoy's qeue to leave, sitting quietly. The rest of the Slytherins had been quick to desert the Great Hall.

It was nearly empty. "Ah…are we leaving?" Adelinda questioned, looking over to him.

He pushed himself up. He was taller than she had realized sitting down, towering over her by at least a head. "Yes," he said simply. "I prefer not to push through the mass of sweaty students in the corridors." Adelinda could understand that, and almost appreciated it. He walked towards the large double doors at so brisk a pace that his robes billowed behind him, and she followed behind him as quickly as she could. He was silent on the walk, and she wondered if they would ever get to the Slytherin common room. "Our common room is in the dungeon, below the lake," he told her, not bothering to look at her. They were making their way down a set of large stone stairs. "It's a bit different from all other houses, not that you would know…the Slytherin numbers have been cut by at least half, though, and as a result all but the first years all have our own rooms. I will show you where yours is, and—" His hand shot out to grab her arm as she nearly fell. The staircase had moved. Who in their right mind would make moving staircases? "Watch it. As I was saying, I will show you where your room is, and after that, you can find another person to show you to your classes. I have things to take care of."

Adelinda scowled. Her cheeks had flushed scarlet at nearly falling in front of this handsome—albeit impolite—man, but his tight grip on her arm and his rude words let her replace embarrassment with anger. She didn't show it. "You're very rude," Adelinda said, her soft, lilting voice as indifference and matter-of-fact as she could make it. It crossed her mind that Ron had mentioned a 'Malfoy' on the train, and how he had better not say anything to Hermione…another Muggle-born. Perhaps now she understood that remark. "I will gladly find someone else to show me where my classes are tomorrow."

He glanced at her sharply. She noted with satisfaction that he seemed surprised to have someone speaking to him in such a way, though Pansy had spoken to him in worse manners. They walked in silence now, and Adelinda took advantage of that silence to observe her surroundings.

Paintings cluttered the walls of the castle, some scowling at her, some waving and greeting her, some speaking to Malfoy as though they were good friends; he ignored them. She was careful of the staircases, but they seemed to have ended, and now they made their way through various doors. The corridors got darker and colder, and she questioned why anyone would want to live underneath a lake…and in dungeons, at that…it was certainly morbid, but then, when your house was represented by a serpent, what was a bit of cold and a lack of light? Adelinda was drawn from her thoughts as they stopped before a stone wall, and she glanced at the older boy curiously. "Parseltongue," he said in a cold monotone, and the stone slid aside to reveal a candlelit passage. "The password. It changes every fortnight, so don't forget to check the noticeboard in the common room, or you'll be out of luck." Adelinda nodded. They moved through the passage and finally reached the common room; it was decorated in green and silver tapestries, of course, all sources of light giving off a greenish hue. Leather sofas and chairs were scattered around a large, blazing fireplace, the only source of heat in the grand room. It was a beautiful, Adelinda thought, but eerie. There were bookshelves lining the wall around the fireplace, and several staircases leading towards what she assumed to be the dormitories. There were only a handful of students there, most of them the older Slytherins, and none of them paid any mind, instead calling out to Malfoy. "It should be common sense that no student from the other houses is to be given the password."

Adelinda eyed him. Did he think her daft? "Common sense indeed," she said a bit sharply. He gave her no response, instead leading her towards the staircase to the right. She was a bit cautious until she realized these ones would not move.

"No males are able to enter the girls' dormitories," Malfoy said in a bored voice, as if he had listed these rules too many times to new students. They continued to walk further down the dimly lit hall, numbered doors on either side. "Each room has a key that knows your touch, so that even if your key is stolen, no one can access your room. It cannot be opened by magic. Professors, Prefects, and myself, as Head Boy, are all exceptions to these rules."

They finally stopped before Room #14. "Well. Here it is." He pulled a key from his pocket, and handed it to her. "Your schedule will be in the common room tomorrow morning."

Before Adelinda could even slip the key into the lock, he had turned and was walking briskly away from her. "Thank you," she called after him; she refused to be impolite.

He cast a curious glance over his shoulder. "Yeah," he said after a moment's pause, and went on his way.

"All of these 'noble' pureblood families, and this one so rude," the tired girl mumbled to herself. She stepped into her bedroom and was disappointed at the continued Slytherin theme, though no surprised. A large bed sat in the middle of it, and above it, right before the ceiling, sat a small window that let moonlight spill in; she wondered briefly if you could see the lake directly below the window. There was a desk and a nightstand to either side of the bed, and her trunk sat at the foot of it; a wardrobe had been pushed up against the wall. The bedding, of course, was green with silver accents, the carpet a very dark color, and the walls so light of a grey they were almost white. "What a dreary room." Adelinda slipped her robe off and let it hang from a hook on the back of the door. With a flick of her wand she opened her empty wardrobe and full trunk, and began moving clothing from one to the other. They had no classes tomorrow, Malfoy had told her; she might as well take advantage of her free night to make herself at home. She laid her wand down on the bed, pulling out her class books and laying them neatly on the desk, organizing her parchment and quills and ink in the drawers beneath it. After thirty minutes of thoughtless organization she had no more to do, and took a seat at her desk to begin writing her parents. She was sure McGonagall had let them know that she had made it there safely—they were very close—but they would want to hear from her regardless.

_Mama,_

_I have made it safely to Hogwarts. It was an uneventful trip, but I did enjoy going to Diagon Alley, and it feels a bit surreal to be able to say I have flown with Harry Potter. The train ride was nice, but long, and I miss you and Papa already. I met the Weasley family, you know, Ron Weasley—his sister Ginny and I seem to get along quite nicely. I also met Hermione Granger. I had been hoping to be sorted into Gryffindor, but instead was put into Slytherin, which—after hearing that house described to me—came as a bit of a shock…I'm afraid I won't fit in, but I am sure I will make friends in the other houses. It can't be too hard._

_Tomorrow I will explore the castle and find all my classes, perhaps meet a few of my professors, but right now I am exhausted and must get to sleep. I will write you again soon and let you know how everything is going._

_Ti amo,  
Adella_

She rolled the parchment and sealed it with her gold wax, setting it on her desk to be taken to the owlery first thing in the morning. After changing into her sleep clothes, she settled into her bed for a restless night of sleep.

Adelinda slept in after having tossed and turned all night; once she had tried to settle in, she found her nerves acting up at sleeping in a strange place. She realized that this was the furthest she had ever been from her parents, at sixteen years old, and the first time she had slept in a place that was not home; she would have to get used to it, though. She had nearly a year ahead of her. She lay there for a bit before forcing herself up, nervous for the day ahead of her; she had no one to show her around. Perhaps they had maps of the school…as large as it was, she would be very surprised if they didn't. Did she wear her robes today? The letter she had gotten had said the uniform only needed to be worn during classes, so she supposed not. She dressed herself in a snug pair of jeans, black booties and a black shirt that hugged her up top and flowed down her back. She pulled her unwashed hair up into a topknot and thought that she needed to find the showers later.

After touching up her make up from the day before, she slipped her wand into her waistband and her room key into her pocket, leaving her room and locking the door behind her. There were a few other girls exiting their rooms, but they did little more than glance her way; she walked in silence to the quiet common room. There was a small cluster of young girls near the passageway chatting and a few others sat quietly near the fire, reading or writing; she saw a familiar blond-headed boy seated at the couch, and when a first-year walked up to him and was handed a few pieces of parchment, she thought that perhaps he was handing out the schedules.

"Goodmorning," she greeted him simply. "Do you have the schedules?"

Malfoy looked up at her. She couldn't help but be struck by his good looks—his finely defined jaw and his pale skin, his sharp grey eyes and the blond hair that fell in straight strands around his face to frame it beautifully. He didn't answer her at first, and she sighed, taking a seat at the opposite arm of the couch and turning her gaze towards the fire. If he didn't want to give her a response, she would wait here until he decided he would speak to her, or until he gave her one of the schedules that she could see in his hands.

Draco glanced at Adelinda as she took a seat. She was a small one, he thought. Maybe it was the muggle blood. He would not let himself admit that he found her beautiful; she was four years younger than him and of dirty blood.

He looked away as she turned her head. She had caught his gaze, however, and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "You're late," he said stiffly. "First years were supposed to be here at eight o'clock to get their schedules and be shown around."

"I am not a First year," Adelinda told him. "And actually, you did not tell me that. I just need my schedule, and perhaps a map if you have it, and I will find my own way around one way or another."

"You're a bothersome little thing, aren't you," he muttered. To this she did not respond; her feelings were a bit hurt. She had done nothing to this boy and had been at Hogwarts for but a day, and already, he didn't like her. It seemed that she wasn't the best at making friends. "Here." He handed her a piece of parchment. "I'll show you around after breakfast. McGonagall will have a fit if I don't, being Head Boy and all…come on. I'm sure you're hungry."

"You don't have to. I'll tell her that I wanted to find my own way," Adelinda said a bit sourly. As rude as this older boy had been, she wasn't sure why she would be willing to cover for him—she would like to believe it was because she simply didn't want to deal with him, but she didn't have it in her to knowingly start trouble, either. "I'm sure you have better things to be doing with your time; am I right?" She raised an eyebrow at him without turning her eyes to his, keeping them locked on her schedule as if she were actually reading it.

"Yes," he said. "However, a promise is a promise, and I made one to McGonagall. And you _are _a Slytherin…I may have better things to do, but I can't leave one of my own, well, on her own. Now _come on." _Malfoy stood. He wore black dress pants and well-polished leather shoes to match, a grey silk shirt and a black tie loose around his neck. So formal for a day at school, but Adelinda supposed at twenty years old and after being out of school for three years, a Pureblood would grow unaccustomed to school uniforms. Or perhaps he was simply that stuck up his own arse. She felt a twang of guilt at this thought and she pushed it away—he was quite mean, but that didn't mean that she had to be, did it?

"Whatever you say," Adelinda said indifferently, standing up and brushing a bit of invisible dust from the tops of her thighs. He was confusing, this Malfoy boy. Man. Whatever you would call a twenty year old attending Hogwarts. He wouldn't leave her on her own, but he was not happy about doing that; why do it, then? Promises, he had said. Well, promise or no promise, if he was going to do something he needn't have been rude about it. She ranted angrily in her head as she followed him out of the Slytherin common room, wishing she had worn a sweater as she walked through the dungeons. It was unnecessarily chilly, but as they came closer to the Great Hall, it warmed up some. There weren't many people still in the Great Hall, but there were enough that they did not attract attention entering it. He led her to the Slytherin table and they sat. She didn't much feel like eating so instead she looked at her schedule as he spoke to other people, all of whom were ignoring her. She could hear the words 'mudblood' and 'muggle-born' and 'dirty' being thrown around quietly, but not too quietly as to not be heard by Adelinda, and the girl's heart dropped into her stomach. She would not sit here and listen to this.

"Excuse me," Adelinda said quietly to the blond boy. He turned to her with a look of slight irritation on her face. It stung. She certainly didn't have the tough skin required to be a part of this serpentine house. "What are the rules on sitting at other houses' tables?"

"Well, I supposed it's not against the rules, but it's certainly frowned upon—Amoretto!" She had pushed herself to her feet, grabbed her schedule and begun to walk away from the table, ignoring him as he called her name. She headed towards the Gryffindor table; perhaps they would turn her away, but she had to try. Ginny and Hermione sat there still, chatting away, and they glanced her way. To her relief, there was no malice in their eyes, only hesitation in Hermione's as they greeted her.

"I cannot stand those Slytherins," she said in a heated voice. Ginny slid over and let her sit down, and she put her parchment on the table. "They are rude, and they are mean, and they are obnoxious. They are _terrible _and I don't know why I was sorted into that bloody house." She turned her head over her shoulder to glance back at the people in reference; they all stared after her in shock.

"You know there are going to be a lot of them very angry about the fact that you're sitting here with us," Ginny told her gently. "We don't mind, of course—" she added hastily with a glance towards Hermione and the other Gryffindors that were looking at her. "—but you should know that. The war is three years over but I doubt that much has changed within that house."

"Well, I have already had to listen to them talk about mudbloods and muggle-borns this morning," she said a bit bitterly. Talking about it was making her feel better, and slowly the anger slid out of her. "I don't think I care much for their opinions."

Ginny just nodded. "Well, good for you," the redheaded girl said brightly. "Why don't you eat, and Hermione and I can show you around the school? I'm sure you're curious. And quite confused. I was my first year."

Adelinda nodded. "Thank you for not turning me away just because I'm a Slytherin," she said to the girl quietly.

"Like I said," Ginny began, putting an arm around Adelinda. "The war is over. _Their _opinions may not have changed much, nor their behavior, but that doesn't mean some of us aren't trying to change. And change has to start somewhere." She winked and gave her a squeeze. "Now eat!"

They all gathered food onto their plates and dug in; she hadn't realized how empty her stomach was. She hadn't ate much at dinner after sorting, too nervous and too self-aware because every stick thin Slytherin girl was had been eyeing her plate full of food with something that she hadn't been sure was judgment or jealousy. Both were ridiculous. She ate her heart out now, however, stuffing herself with breakfast puddings and breads and fruit, and it was delectable. After the three girls were full and had had their fill of chatting they got up to show Adelinda around; they spent hours walking around Hogwarts. It was _huge. _She wasn't even sure she would be able to get to all of her classes in time, but Ginny assured her there would always be someone around to help, and they had quite a few classes together—Adelinda was in a few advanced classes, her home-schooling having given her the upper hand in those that did not involve intricate magic; potions, charms, History of Magic, herbology…she was actually in a position to possibly graduate with the Seventh Years, depending on the marks she received in her N.E.W.T-level classes. McGonagall had told her parents she would consider letting her take the N.E.W.T exams at the end of the year. They would see. She spent the majority of her day with the Gryffindor girls; they eventually met with their boyfriends and invited her to tag along—they were just going to go get dinner and roam around, they said—but she didn't want to intrude. Ron and Harry had seemed a bit stand-offish as it was, and she wondered if they felt odd about being around a Slytherin…the thought made her sad. Instead of heading towards the Slytherin common room, she made her way to the library. It was empty. Classes had not started yet, and no one felt the need to study or check out books if it wasn't necessary, it seemed. That was perfect for her. She wanted to be alone; Adelinda spent the better part of two hours browsing the monstrous library. She had visited libraries in Italy, but none like this, of course; the books had not rearranged themselves or put themselves back onto the shelves (in alphabetical order). She had taken to leaving books in completely different parts of the library just to watch them flutter back to their designated spot, taking pleasure in this simple thing. Lucky for her, the librarian was not in, either. Finally, Adelinda settled into a soft chair with a few books, her legs curled under her and wand resting beside a stack of texts as she read. She became completely immersed in the book she read, an autobiography of some famous, tragic witch from the 1800's complete with sepia-toned photographs, when someone cleared their throat from several feet away. She jumped and went for her wand immediately, the leather-bound book falling to the carpeted floor with a loud thump.

"Calm yourself, Amoretto," a particular snarky blond boy said, his hands up to show that he was wand-less. "It's only me."

"_Buon dio, _don't you have enough sense to not sneak up on a girl!" Adelinda flushed red at this rude exclamation that slipped past her normally polite lips but she would not let herself apologize, not to him, and not after the miserable morning she had had…perhaps she was overreacting to the conversation she had overheard and this rude boy, but she couldn't help it. It had been so long since she had been around people her own age and her last schooling experience just six years ago had not gone well.

"I didn't sneak up on you," Malfoy told her, and eyed her wand. "Would you mind lowering that bloody thing before you take my eye out? I'm not going to hurt you for Merlin's sake." She lowered her wand as asked but kept it in her hand, watching him.

"What do you want?" Adelinda asked quietly.

"I had noticed that you weren't in the common room yet," he told her, and sat down lazily in a chair across from where she had been reading. "And wanted to make sure that you hadn't gotten lost. Of course, how could you, with those Gryffindors helping you out? So buddy-buddy with the rival house."

"It isn't as though the people I have encountered in _our _house have treated me very well," she snapped at him. "You have been downright rude, and if you even _try _to tell me that you couldn't hear those people talking about 'mudblood' this and 'weak muggle-born' that—"

"I don't—"

"—the Gryffindors may be our rival house, but let me tell you this: I didn't want to be sorted into Slytherin, and as long as I have friends with Gryffindor, I will stay 'buddy-buddy' with them. I am going to the common room now." Adelinda stood and gathered her things, storming out before he could say another word.

Fighting tears and struggling to find her way back to the Slytherin common room—unfortunately having to ask for help once or twice—she finally made it, and collapsed onto her bed. It had been such a long day already, and classes started in the morning.

Joy.


	4. Chapter 4

A girl's quickest remedy to a bad day would always be looking pretty, and that's why Adelinda stood before the mirror on the inside of her wardrobe, checking and rechecking her appearance. She needed plenty of confidence for the day she had ahead of her, and that was why she had taken extra time on her make up; a touch of dark eye-shadow and winged liner and her face was transformed from frightened little girl to strong woman (or at least that's how she felt). She let her wavy hair fall around her shoulders simply, and in her final moments of prepping, ran her fingers through it nervously. With a glance at her watch, she decided she would do well to get going now in order to allow herself a bit of time to find her way to her first class; potions with the Seventh Year students and a number of advanced Sixth Years. It was comforting to know that there would be students closer to her age in the class.

Her stomach was churning, though; Adelinda hadn't realized just how nervous she was for this day. Her first day of classes in an actual _school_ in six years—she had been bullied quite badly in her last few years of public schooling, and it had left a lasting impression on her. This was, perhaps, the reason for her level of hurt at the words she had heard the two boys in the Great Hall throwing around; she was entering into this school _expecting _teasing and hostility, and so far, though nothing terrible had happened, those expectations were proving to be true. It did not leave her excited for the rest of the school year. Was graduating with other students instead of on her own really worth the stress? She reminded herself though that classes had not yet started, and she needed to give the school and the other students a chance before passing judgment or holding onto old feelings. She had Ginny and Hermione, after all, and perhaps even Ron and Harry. There was an upside to the little mess that Slytherin was, after all. Adelinda pulled herself from her thoughts and her black bag over her shoulder, shrunken schoolbooks and inkpots and other odds and ends arranged neatly within it; she was certainly prepared for classes. She had decided to skip breakfast to finally shower, and her empty stomach was protesting that decision; she didn't have time for it though, and she left her room, making her way through the crowded common room and corridors. Everywhere she went was loud with excitement and greetings and the normal noises of a school. She arrived at her class just a few moments early and was relieved to see that she was not the only one there already; Adelinda chose a seat on the Slytherin side of the classroom towards the back, her bag resting on the floor beside her. She might get away with sitting with the wrong house in the Great Hall, but she doubted she would in a classroom setting. The professor was nowhere to be seen, however; as a bell chimed to let students know the first class of the day had begun, he still was not there, and the students weren't worried about in the least. As it turned out, the other house in this class was Gryffindor; Harry and Hermione sat together near the front talking. They had greeted her as they walked in, much to her fellow Slytherins' disdain. In front of her sat Pansy, chattering away to Malfoy, who did not seem to be pleased with the woman's presence. Adelinda, on the other hand, was not sure if she was relieved or dismayed at her lack of a seatmate.

Just as she thought this, the classroom doors opened; the attention that had turned towards them as they swung open returned to other things as students realized it was not the professor. No, it was the tall dark-skinned boy she had seen at the Great Hall after the sorting, the one with the beautiful cheekbones and gorgeous eyes. She nearly panicked when she realized that the seat beside her was the last seat left for him to take unless he was to sit by himself; instead of taking one of the empty tables he slid into the chair beside her, dropping his bag onto the table before him with a soft 'thud.' "Slughorn isn't here yet, then?" he asked her, rifling through his bag to pull out his potions book.

Remembering that to be the name of their professor, she shook her head. "Not yet," she said quietly, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"I don't mean to be rude," he said after a few moments of going through his bag in a distracted search for something. "The name's Blaise Zabini." He extended a hand and a smile to her, both of which she returned. Finally a polite Slytherin—_and _he was cute. She couldn't help but be nervous, but it was a sort of nervousness that she didn't mind. She had never really spoken to an attractive boy like this. Sixteen years old and she hadn't even _dated._ She had had no means of it and didn't really mind, but the male attention was still thrilling.

"Adelinda Amoretto."

"You're from Italy, yeah?" the boy asked her; she had his full attention now and had no idea what to do with it, and so she simply nodded, hoping she did not come across as uninterested in their conversation. "I know an Italian accent when I hear it."

"I've lived there since I was small," Adelinda told him with a happy smile; she was inwardly very excited to have met someone that she had something in common with. "You must have family there. Your surname is of Italian origins, is it not?"

"Ah, you pay attention." her cheeks became a bit rosy at this. "I have an aunt there and a few cousins. I visit her every summer. Beautiful place, Italy is."

"It is quite magnificent," Adelinda agreed. "I miss it already." As she said this, the classroom doors swung wide again, and everyone turned their heads over their shoulders to see a man small in stature and a bit large in width walk into the room. He was bald and kind looking, but also appeared a bit frazzled.

"Goodmorning, class!" he bellowed, a bright smile on his thin lips. The students returned the bright greeting with a dull one of their own. "Ah, tired, are we? Well, we have just the right activity today!" he waddled up the steps leading to his podium. "Right then, a proper greeting is in store…most of you students here already know me, welcome back, welcome back, but to the few of you who do not, I am Professor Slughorn. You must be very bright to be in this class and I look forward to teaching you." He said nothing of being late; Adelinda was sure most of the other professors would not be as relaxed as this one seemed to be so far, but she was enjoying it. He seemed like a very nice person. Hermione had told her that this professor did seem to play favorites, but it had little to do with house and quite a bit to do with skill levels, so that, at least, was reassuring. "Today I ask you all to make a simple Re-Energizing Potion. I will use this to gauge your skills and strong points, and see how much knowledge we have potentially lost the past few years." A few students groaned a bit at this, probably the ones who had not kept up with their skills during their years 'off.' "Your partners will be whoever sits alongside you, so I hope you have picked your tablemates well. Cauldrons up from under the table, good, good, and supplies are in the closet as usual. You may begin." He clapped his chubby little hands together and everyone began to shuffle about, gathering the things they needed and adjusting the odds and ends on their tables.

"How are you in potions?" Blaise asked her as he pulled the big black cauldron from under the table, positioning it properly above the heating source. "Silly question, I suppose, seeing how you're in this class, but still."

"I'm alright, I suppose," she told him modestly. "I know my way around a cauldron. I'll go get the ingredients."

"No, you sit," he said immediately. "I can get them, and we'll both prepare them. That sounds alright, yeah?" She didn't protest, simply happy to see a man with the manners that she was accustomed to—and she could not deny that she had a bit of a crush on the boy, shallow as that crush was. He was handsome and sweet, how could she not? He came back with an armful of ingredients and they got to chopping and slicing and crushing, holding steady, easy conversation about Italy and relatives and family names as they did. Slughorn was making rounds through the classroom, stopping to watch every table for a few moments, chatting with some students for longer.

"Oh, here, does he keep coffee beans-?" Adelinda had tied her hair back to keep it away from the hot cauldron, looking in at it as she stirred it, watching the ingredients simmer and thicken the brew.

"Uh, I don't have a clue," Blaise said. "Why do we need them?"

Adelinda was in her place of interest, and she was immersed in concocting this potion perfectly. It was a subject that had always come easy to the girl. "Grab them for me and I'll explain?" she gave him a glance and a smile and he shrugged as if to say, 'whatever you need.' He came back with a small jar full of the reddish brown beans and handed it to her, telling her it was all they had. "Coffee is something you wizards underestimate," Adelinda told him, completely focused on the task at hand. She poured a handful of the beans onto a cutting board and began crushing them. Slughorn was looking at them curiously from another table, but she did not notice. "It has caffeine, something I suppose is more of a Muggle thing, but it wakes you up. Quite a bit if you've never had it. It works wonders in this potion. You just crush a bit and sprinkle it into the potion as you stir." He took the crushed ingredients and sprinkled them in as he was told to do, giving them a sniff as he did, and she stirred.

By the time he had reached their table, there was a faint yellowish steam rising from the brew. "It looks very good so far," Slughorn praised them, taking the ladle from Adelinda and stirring it. He brought it to his lips and took a sip, his eyes brightening a bit. "What an immediate effect! What did you put in this?"

"Crushed coffee beans," Blaise told him. He almost seemed surprised that the unusual ingredient was being recognized; it was not something they had ever been taught to put into a Re-Energizing Potion, but Slughorn would appreciate that they had used something different. "It was Adelinda's idea."

"It was a very good idea indeed," he told her warmly. "Ms. Amoretto, yes? Very good job, the both of you. I look forward to having you in my class this year." Adelinda couldn't help but be very pleased at this; her years of magical home-schooling had done her well, it seemed.

As Slughorn moved onto the next table she met Malfoy's eyes, who had turned around as the professor had spoken to them. It sucked a bit of the happiness from her, a bit more as she saw the dark look Pansy gave her, displeased at losing Malfoy's attention; attention she had not been holding in the first place. He was watching the two Slytherins interact with an emotionless face but as they made eye contact he turned away from them, returning to the one-sided conversation with Pansy, who had ignored Adelinda coldly since the sorting. Or more particularly, since she had sat with the Gryffindors. She was not too heartbroken about it; there had been a very fake quality about the girl anyway. Soon the class had ended and everyone was making their way out of the classroom; she hung back a moment to speak to Hermione, who had waved at her as Slughorn dismissed them.

"I'll see you next class," Zabini told her as he gathered his things, smiling down at Adelinda. "If you ever decide to sit with us Slytherin's, feel free to find me." He ended his sentence with a wink and left her with a blush on her cheeks.

"Everything alright?" Hermione asked her as she made her way over to Adelinda, eyeing her pink face and then looking after Blaise. "You're flushed."

"Oh, yes, I'm fine!" Adelinda assured the older girl.

"I think Professor Slughorn likes you quite a bit," Hermione praised her. Adelinda smiled.

"You think?" she didn't feel the need to hide her excitement over this with Hermione; she was the _brightest _witch of her year, perhaps of the whole school, after all. If there were a witch who could appreciate this feeling, it was Hermione.

"I do," she told her with a grin. Adelinda moved all her things into her bag, and after getting an okay from the professor, took a few vials of the Re-Energizing potion she had brewed. "What class do you have next?"

"Care of Magical Creatures," Adelinda told her. They were walking through the busy corridors together. "One of my sort of remedial classes...it wasn't something you could really learn through home-schooling."

"Oh! That's this way," Hermione told her, and led her down a staircase. "You're going to love Hagrid." She took her to a set of side doors that seemed to lead outside, and gave her directions. "Come to lunch today, you can sit with Ginny and I." At the mention of lunch her stomach rumbled. She was quite hungry.

"Okay," Adelinda agreed with a happy smile. Things were looking up a bit; she had made a friend in potions, a very handsome friend, her first professor liked her, and Hermione and Ginny seemed to like her as well. She made her way to the small hut on the edge of the forest, where groups of students were gathered around. Instead of throwing the few older students who needed the class still in with all of the first years, McGonagall had opened the class to those who _wanted _to take it as well as those who truly needed it. It made for a good amount of younger students and fifth-sixth years. Adelinda did like Hagrid, quite a bit, and _loved_ the class. After her third class, she headed towards the Great Hall for lunch. It was noon and she was famished.

She bypassed the Slytherin table altogether, ignoring as they all quieted for a moment to watch her make her way to the Gryffindors. Was she honestly the first Slytherin to do this? It was hard to believe, as old as Hogwarts was, but that was what people had told Adelinda. She didn't care. "Hey, Ginny." Hermione had not gotten there yet. She slid onto the bench beside the Weasley girl.

"How do you like Hogwarts so far?" Ginny asked her, and they began to discuss their classes and professors as they sipped their pumpkin juice and stuffed their faces. After comparing their schedules they saw that they both had a free period after their next class and decided to meet in the library—their reasoning was to work on any assignments they were given, but they would probably just gossip as girls tended to do.

Adelinda excused herself from lunch a few minutes early to find her way to her next class. Today was her busiest day of classes, with six of them—every other day was only three or four classes, if that, though some made up for that in the length of it. She had thrown her bag over her shoulder and taken her robe off; it was folded neatly over her arm as she walked along. History of Magic, that's what she had next. "Now to find it," she murmured to herself.

She felt a tug on her bag and stopped, turning quickly. "Yes?"

It was Pansy Parkinson. "Adelinda, hi," she purred, invading the younger girl's personal space. She stepped closer and closer as Adelinda stepped further back until she felt her back touch the wall. "How are you, love?"

"I'm, ah, fine," Adelinda answered uncomfortably, staring up at the woman with a raised eyebrow. It was best to appear cool and collected in these situations, right? "Can I help you…?"

"Well, yes, actually." Pansy was fiddling with the girl's hair with one hand, the other perfectly manicured hand on the wall beside her head to block her in, and Adelinda wished she would stop touching her. "You realize that you are a Slytherin, yes? And that Gryffindor is our rival house? You need to stop sitting with them, love. You've already sullied our reputation by being a Muggle-Born; you are making it worse by associating with Gryffindor blood traitors."

Adelinda was angered by this. "I will sit with who I please," she said as politely as possible. "I'm sorry you do not like it, but the war is over, is it not? And with the war coming to an end, the prejudices should have, as well. If anything, the Slytherins sullied their own reputation, and I am doing something to help it. Excuse me." She slipped under the girl's arm only to be pulled back roughly by the wrist.

"Stop sitting with them," Pansy hissed at her. She wasn't so beautiful when she was angry, Adelinda thought. She looked like an angry little dog. "I'm serious, Amoretto."

"Don't touch me." Adelinda yanked her wrist away and walked off, struggling to appear calm. She had been right to deem the girl fake, and here her true colors were showing, as the Muggles liked to say. A convenient cliché. Her heart was pattering away in her chest, and she heard a bit of bickering behind her. It sounded like Malfoy and Pansy but she couldn't be sure, and she was not going to turn around to check. Once she was safely out of sight, she leaned against a wall, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes were glossy. This was too reminiscent of her school years as a child. Being told how to behave, being told what to do, being cornered and spoken down to…the experience had left her shaken and teary-eyed.

Before her parents had realized that she was a witch, she had attended Muggle school. It had gone well for the first few years; there were a few odd incidents, things moving on their own, appearing out of what seemed like nowhere, but never anything serious and never anything her teachers told her parents about. Perhaps they thought themselves crazy, or made themselves believe it was a trick of the eye. The other children never noticed and if they did, they were too young to understand that it was not normal. Adelinda never realized she was the child doing it, and it didn't bother her. As she got older, though, her magic became stronger and she didn't know how to control it; at this point, her parents realized what was happening and worked to help her control her own magic, but it was difficult for her in the beginning and during that time things happened that the other children finally recognized as strange. They began to distance themselves from her, and as Adelinda realized that the voices in her head belonged to the other children, she began to distance herself from them as well. And then the bullying began. She was the unusual one, the one that did not talk to anybody, the strange little girl who was so quiet she seemed dense, and the other children didn't like it—children were not quiet or reserved, so in their minds, there _had _to be something wrong with her, or perhaps she thought herself better than them. When the bullying began, bad things began to happen, bad things that Adelinda didn't know how to stop. But at sixteen years old Adelinda could control her magic, and she could keep the voices out of her head, and everything would be okay; this is what she repeated over and over again in her mind as she gathered her thoughts and her composure and went along to her next class as though nothing had happened. She did not tell Ginny about the incident with Pansy when they met in the library, and the redheaded girl never realized that anything was wrong. She had realized as a child that the less people you told of these things, the less traumatic it would be—best to keep as few people involved as possible. She had nothing to worry about as long as it did not become physical; words she could handle just fine.

The next two or three weeks progressed like this; Adelinda attended meals, always sitting with the Gryffindors, and went to classes. She avoided empty corridors to avoid any confrontations and continued to meet Ginny during the free periods they shared; in fact, most of her free time was spent with Hermione and Ginny, and they were becoming quite close as a result of this. If she was not with them, she was in class, in the library studying, or in her room. She didn't spend much time there—in fact, Hermione was trying to convince McGonagall to let her into the Gryffindor common room on the weekends, under the pretense that it would represent the end of Slytherin/Gryffindor house rivalry. It was quite clever, Adelinda had to admit, but the headmaster was a smart woman and would surely see through it…she would also see the true reason, though, and perhaps she was soft enough to allow it. Adelinda hoped so, though she wasn't sure how the other Gryffindors would take to it. Some were still weary of her presence at their table, though most had been convinced by Ginny and Harry that she had no ulterior motives; she was a friend, and she was not prejudiced or out to start trouble. Her blood status helped convince them; they understood how out of place she had to feel in Slytherin. And out of place she was. Classes were going well; the work kept her mind busy, and she enjoyed the class-time, learning and seeing things she had never seen before in the Muggle world, and things her parents could not show her at home. She and Blaise had made a habit of chatting through potions classes while they worked; she had taken quite a liking to him, and he took up a large part of her thoughts, but she had not taken him up on his offer to sit with her at lunch and she didn't see him much outside of class. She was weary of it, though she wasn't sure if it was just paranoia or if her school-girl crush was the cause of this. She wrote frequent letters to her parents, sending her owl out once a week with a small bundle of letters and pitying the owl the trip to Italy. Isis always returned with a letter and a little shrunken care package filled with Adelinda's favorite Muggle candies, a couple pieces of wizard money that just built up in the top drawer of her desk, and little trinkets that her mother knew she would love. She had a nice little collection of dried flowers and perfumes going.

It was a Sunday night and Adelinda was up late trying to finish a paper she had forgotten about over the weekend she had spent with the Gryffindor couples. They had gone down to the Quidditch pitch each day and Hermione and Adelinda had watched the other three practice; Ginny and Adelinda had switched brooms for the time being. She had been reluctant to take it but when Adelinda had pointed out that she would better beat the Slytherins on a fast broom she gave in with an excited smile, and that excitement made Adelinda happy. Quidditch would be starting soon, they told her; she was excited to watch it until she realized that if she were to go, she would have to sit with the Slytherins and cheer for them. It was a shame. Ginny had convinced Adelinda and Hermione to join in after awhile on Sunday, and they had reluctantly, Hermione a bit embarrassed and Adelinda simply not understanding the game; once Ron and Harry had explained it, she dove into it, enjoying the small game they played and the simple feeling of flying. She was happy to have had that in her childhood, at least.

The weekend had been wonderful, but now she was paying for neglecting the schoolwork her professors had buried her under on Friday; their History of Magic assignment had been to write a very lengthy and in-depth paper on the history of their houses' founders, given after the disappointed professor had realized how little they all knew of the subject. It was a difficult task for Adelinda, who knew little to nothing of Hogwarts and less of Slytherin's history. It was nearly one in the morning, however, and after a weekend of partying and adventuring, she doubted there were any students left in the common rooms. She was going to go sort through the bookshelves there; the Slytherins were so proud, she was certain that there was an abundance of books on Salazar Slytherin there.

She was still dressed in her day clothes, Muggle jeans and a sweater, and she didn't bother to put shoes on as she gathered up her parchment and quill and inkpots, sliding her wand into her waistband and grabbing her key. She made her way into the eerily silent common room; the only noise to be heard was the crackling of the warm fire and the faint sound of the water from around the common room. She had been right in assuming no one would be occupying the room at this ungodly hour and she spread her work out on the table in front of the fire. It was the first time she had spent longer than a moment in the common room, and the first time she had been able to get a good look around; it really was as magnificent as it was cold and unwelcoming. She yawned and began rifling through the bookshelves, pulling out every book she could find on the house's founder and settling into a huge leather chair by the fire, throwing herself into the books she had gathered. Salazar Slytherin was interesting if not seriously screwed in the head, but he made for an easy person to read and write about, and she had gotten more than halfway through her essay within forty minutes.

She didn't notice as a couple spilled through the passageway until she heard a little moan come from the girl. It scared her a bit and her head turned quickly to the source of it; a tall, thin Slytherin girl, one of the older Seventh years if she was correct, was locked onto the mouth of a man with familiar white-blond hair. She raised an eyebrow and felt an overwhelming sense of awkwardness. Did she say something or just let them be and hope they left…? After a moment she settled for clearing her throat and both people looked up with shocked faces.

"Oh, I, uhm, sorry! I didn't realize there was anyone in here!" the girl was embarrassed, Adelinda could tell, and she shrugged her shoulders at her with a smile.

"It's fine." The girl looked back to Draco and said a soft good-bye, nearly running up the stairs to the girls' dormitories and out of sight. Adelinda returned to her paper without saying anything to Malfoy, who still stood there, hair and clothes disheveled; she couldn't focus now, though, and struggled to get back into the swing of writing.

"A shame that wonderful snogging had to be cut short," Malfoy said obnoxiously as if he blamed her for it. She glanced back to him and then returned her attention to his paper; he threw himself onto the sofa near her chair, resting his ankle on the opposite knee and spreading his arms over the back of it. "What are you doing out here?"

"It is my common room, too," Adelinda murmured without taking her eyes off her paper. She was growing increasingly tired and frustrated with this essay now; she had gotten into the groove of writing without breaks, and she had lost that inspiration upon being interrupted. At this rate, she would never finish her essay.

"Wouldn't know it, the way you hang out with the Gryffindors," Malfoy sneered, shaking his head. "What a shame. You're certainly smart enough and pretty enough, you would make a wonderful Slytherin if only you would adhere to our…customs." At this backhanded compliment, she looked up, tired eyes settling on his face.

"I'm a mudblood," she sneered back at him. "I don't even belong in this godforsaken house. May I finish my essay now?" Malfoy grew quiet and she took that as a yes, working her way through her paper and forcing the words out. She wouldn't get the high mark she was aiming for with this essay, but she certainly wouldn't fail it, and at this point that was enough for her. She would do better on the next one they were given to write. Fifteen minutes passed, twenty minutes, twenty five, and the older boy still sat on the couch. He was watching her absentmindedly but she didn't notice, didn't truly care, much too focused on getting this paper done. Finally she did, and when she looked up and automatically met his eyes, she raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" Adelinda said wearily. She picked up her wand and lazily used it to return the dozen of books she had pulled from the shelves back into their designated spots, straightening her mess of parchment and quills and notes.

"You're not making any friends in this house, you know," Malfoy said after a moment of silence in a rather serious tone, and the lack of teasing in his voice made her look up at him. She was leaning down in front of the table to gather her things and his words made her stop.

"I don't want to."

"Yes, yes, that's all fine, no one really does anyway," he said, a touch of irritation in his voice. "But if you continue on the way you have been, you're going to make enemies. I just think you should realize that. 'Reformed' death eaters and Slytherin students all have a big talk about changed views and this fronted behavior, but it's not true—"

On the defensive, she held her things tight to her chest with one arm, the other hand gripping her wand tightly but keeping it at her side. His words felt like a threat to her. "I have friends. I have Ginny and Hermione and Harry, I have Ron." Could she include Blaise? She didn't know.

"Oh, the Golden Trio. Yeah," he shook his head, standing. "They can't do much for you while you're in this common room, though, can they?"

His words made her nervous. He wasn't going to hurt her, he wouldn't, he _couldn't, _but she did not know that and Malfoy's words made her nervous; she took a step back. "Why are you even talking to me right now? Do you not think I've been told most of this by other Slytherins already? At this point, even if I did do as you all wanted and abandoned my friends in the other houses, even if I did begin to act like the perfect little purebloods that you all are, no one would like me. I believe _that _was predetermined by my blood status, wouldn't you agree?" Her exhaustion made her irritable and a little less cautious of her words. "Goodnight." She stormed away from Malfoy, leaving him standing there looking after her. The girl was so feisty, so defensive, and one of the only people in this house besides Pansy who would stand up to him; and he didn't count her. She thought that it was cute, sassing him and arguing. Adelinda truly meant every word he said, just as he had truly meant his words as a warning, a well-intended warning. But Draco supposed that, after what the Slytherins had been putting her through, nothing out of his mouth would seem well-intended. It was all he could do. He sat in the common room before the fire, just thinking, as Adelinda tossed her things down onto her desk, stripped to nothing and curled up in bed, unable to sleep because of the anger Malfoy's words had ignited.

**Author's Note: **a big thank you to those of you that are reading this, especially to those of you who returned to it after I left off with Amoretto. Updates might slow down a bit, I'm thinking of only updating one a week, which will give you longer, more edited chapters. We'll see. Remember, reviews make a writer's world go round =)


	5. Chapter 5

When Adelinda woke in the morning, she still felt a twinge of anger left from the conversation that had taken place with Malfoy the night before; she shoved it aside to get ready for her classes. She had potions with Blaise today; that was something to look forward to. She ran a brush through her hair and spent a few minutes on her make up before dressing for the day, pulling her robes on and slinging her bag over her shoulder, making her way towards breakfast. On her way through the common room she caught Malfoy's eyes. She mistook an admiring gaze for animosity and turned away immediately. Adelinda had done nothing but talk about Blaise to Ginny and Hermione the previous week; Hermione admitted that she did not quite approve of the Slytherin boy but could not honestly say she remembered him being outright terrible before the war. Ginny, on the other hand, was all for the younger girl's crush. They knew that potions class with him was the highlight of Adelinda's day, and that's why Ginny teased her all throughout breakfast about seeing him that Monday morning. She _was_ looking forward to seeing him—she enjoyed his presence, as well as his conversation...'the good looks were simply a bonus' is what she told the girls when they gossiped about it. But Adelinda also enjoyed simply having a friend in her own house. During potions, she felt a little less ostracized. And that was the reason for the little pep in her step as she walked towards her first class of the day. She slipped into her seat just as the bell chimed to announce the staring of the first class; Slughorn was late, as per usual, but Blaise was already seated

"Hey, love," he greeted her easily with a smile. She nearly swooned every time he used these endearments; she knew it wasn't an uncommon thing, she knew that it did not necessarily mean he liked her, but she still enjoyed it, and what young girl wouldn't? "Goodmorning," Adelinda gave him a shy smile, fiddling with her quill; a nervous habit. She had taken a bit of the Re-Energizing potion the two had brewed weeks before to help her survive the day on just a few hours of sleep, and it had made her very jittery and excited. "Sleep well?" He had turned on his stool to look at her, a hand cupping his cheek to prop his face up.

"Eh," she crinkled her nose a bit at that question. "Could've slept better…I had to write a very lengthy paper on Salazar Slytherin, whose name I hadn't even heard of 'til Friday. Pitiful, I suppose, considering I am a Slytherin…but in my own defense, I did miss quite a few years of schooling here." She shrugged a bit.

Blaise laughed. "Well, at least you got the paper finished?" when she nodded he smiled. "Good. Go take a nap during one of your free periods or something, give you a bit of energy…and maybe perhaps after you've rested, you'll feel up to coming to my Quidditch practice this evening?" They had talked the last few classes of the upcoming Quidditch season. He was a Beater, he had told her, and was very excited for it to start. He had missed it over the last few years out of school.

"Oh, I don't know…" Adelinda was thrilled that he had asked her to attend his practice, and she would love to watch him, but that would mean sitting alone in the bleachers amongst the other girls who came to watch…the other Slytherin girls, none of whom had taken well to her.

"What's stopping you, love?" if the boy continued to call her that, Adelinda wasn't going to be able to decline his invitation; perhaps that was his intention.

"Well, I don't have too many Slytherin friends…" she told him quietly, shyly, looking down at the quill she still fiddled with.

"Ah." Blaise grew quiet for a moment, thinking. "Well, how about this—sit with me at supper tonight. It won't be quite as awkward, you'll have me to talk to…I will be a bit sweaty from practice, but you'll have to forgive that just this once."

"I don't know, Blaise." She had grown so accustomed to sitting at the Gryffindor table, had even begun to make more friends there; it would feel odd. And how would Hermione and Ginny feel about it. She knew it was a bit silly to be taking it so seriously; it was just sitting with him, and he probably thought her quite odd for her hesitation, but that was okay.

"Please?" she glanced over to him and met his eyes, dark and pleading, and Adelinda couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, fine," she said with a soft laugh. "I suppose I can't say no, since you asked so nicely…"

"I was hoping it would work that way." He winked at her, and finally Slughorn walked in with his usual half-arsed apology for being late as he was every morning, though he had to known that the students loved a late professor. Adelinda went through the rest of the day both nervous and excited to see Blaise again; during lunch and her free period it was all she spoke of, after Ginny reassured her that they wouldn't mind her not sitting with them. In fact, Ginny was excited for her, though Hermione still seemed to be on the fence about the Slytherin boy. Adelinda retired to her room after classes to attempt to work on school work; she had no papers to write, only some studying to do, and she found she couldn't concentrate even on that, so she dawdled about her room, organizing shelves that were already very neat, fluffing pillows, writing her parents a letter about nothing. When it was time for dinner to begin, she took a quick check in the mirror, brushing her hair and shedding her robe; Adelinda was quite aware that she was being silly, but that did not stop her from fretting over her appearance before she went to meet Blaise.

"Hey, you," Blaise smiled over at her as she reached the Slytherin table. He was so bloody handsome; with his sculpted cheeks and full lips and smooth skin and a body made by Quidditch, there was no doubt that all the Slytherin girls were enamored with him.

"Hey, Blaise," she greeted him with a bright smile of her own. He slid over on his seat to make room for her and she slipped onto the bench beside him, enjoying the close proximity. She could smell the sweat on him from Quidditch practice, but it wasn't completely unpleasant, mingling nicely with his cologne. "How was practice?"

"Oh, it was great," he told her with a grin. "I think we'll do well our first game. We've got a great team, and with Malfoy as seeker, it shouldn't be a long one." She wondered briefly if the two men were friends, glancing down the table at the blonde in reference as Blaise continued to tell her how practice had gone. She enjoyed the conversation but could not hold her own in it; she knew little to nothing of Quidditch, which didn't matter much as Blaise seemed pleased to explain it her as she listened and ate.

"Ah, look who decided to join us!" a shrill voice sounded, and Adelinda and Blaise both looked up to see Pansy Parkinson standing before them on the opposite side of the table. "Have you finally realized the error in your ways, Amoretto?" Adelinda had been dreading this and just looked at the girl with slightly narrowed eyes, angry.

"Leave her alone, Pansy," Blaise snapped at Pansy. She rested a skeletal hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side in a curious manner.

"Funny, Blaise, I wouldn't have taken you to be attracted to mudbloods." Adelinda's heart dropped at the name-calling and she looked down, embarrassed and hurt.

"That's enough," he said firmly, pushing to his feet. "Don't take your prejudices out on her."

"You're a fine one to speak of prejudices!" Pansy grinned. "All that talk during the war of eradicating the filthy mudbloods and blood traitors, and now the purist is defending one…what a funny scene we have here." Blaise was angry now, and as Adelinda saw him draw his wand, she stood quickly, grabbing his arm.

"Stop. It's fine," she said in a small, worried voice. She didn't want this to escalate into something more than words. "I'll just go, okay? I'll see you in class." They had the attention of the entire Slytherin table now and they watched as Adelinda hurried out of the Great Hall. Her eyes were tearing up quickly and her face was hot, and she was relieved when she made it out into the corridors; Blaise had not followed her out and when she realized that a part of her had been hoping he would, her tears broke. She was angry with herself for crying and angry with herself for having hope that her presence at the Slytherin table would go unnoticed, or at the very least, unacknowledged. She could have dealt with whispers behind her back or dirty looks, but what Pansy had done had been terrible, making a scene in front of everyone; and she hadn't even defended herself. Blaise had. That, perhaps, embarrassed her more than Pansy's confrontation did. She wiped aggressively at her eyes, smearing her make up, and stormed towards the dungeons. She had lost her appetite and desire to be around anyone, though she briefly wondered if Ginny and Hermione had seen what had happened. When she reached her bedroom she fumbled with the key for a moment and once inside, shut her door with a bit more force than usual; the 'thud' of it slamming echoed through the empty hallway. "Bloody hell," she mumbled, locking the door and throwing herself into her bed. She should have given heed to her worries about sitting with Blaise, but nothing could be changed now.

~

The next few days went by, for the most part, uneventfully; there was a bit of chatter in the common room and corridors when she passed Slytherins who had seen the short verbal altercation or who were friends with Pansy. She didn't see Blaise over the days that she did not have potions, and at meals, entered the Great Hall early enough and left late enough to avoid walking by the Slytherins. She did want to see Blaise, but she would admit that she was worried about another confrontation…Ginny and Hermione had been furious when Adelinda had told them of the events at supper. It seemed as though they had already been disdainful of Pansy, and had become even more-so due to the girl's bullying. She felt a little better about the situation to know that she had friends who cared enough to be angry. They were her first real friends, after all. Adelinda felt the extent of their anger towards the situation when, one morning at breakfast, Isis dropped a letter before her. She didn't recognize the handwriting; it didn't belong to her parents. "Wha's that?" Ron asked her curiously through a mouthful of food; Hermione swatted at his arm and told him not to speak with a full mouth. Adelinda shrugged her shoulders.

"'Dunno," she responded, and opened the small envelope carefully, her eyes scanning the word thoroughly. It was a bold, slightly messy cursive, the handwriting of a male.

_Adelinda, _

_I have no real reason to think that you have been avoiding me except that I did not follow you out of the Great Hall that evening to make sure that you were okay. Pansy was a right brat for that, and I am sorry it happened. You were right to be hesitant, I suppose. Please, as a way to make it up to you, let me take you out on the first Hogsmeade outing next weekend. I'm sure you've never been, and it will be a totally different atmosphere. I promise you won't have to deal with Pansy. We can talk about it on Monday in potions, if you'd like, but please think about it. _

_-Blaise_

She was biting at her lower lip as she thought about his request. She had heard many students talking in great excitement about the trip, and had been meaning to send off the permission slip to her parents in case she decided to go; she had been planning on joining the Gryffindor friends, though, not Blaise. She didn't know how she felt about Blaise not checking on her, though, and she wasn't sure how she felt about going to Hogsmeade with him—but she couldn't deny that the thought of a more personal time with him sounded quite nice. "It's from Blaise," she told the girls on either side of her. They leaned in close to read it; Hermione began going on angrily about how he couldn't really know that they wouldn't come across Pansy and how he had already gotten her into a bad situation, and Ginny just listened to the curly-haired girl rattle on. The boys watched on, adding in their very unhelpful input from time to time, and it went on this way until the first bell of the day chimed and they went their separate ways; when it came time for Ginny and Adelinda to meet, they met at a room Ginny called the Room of Requirement. She taught her how to design it to her liking and how to get the door to appear to her. "It's not a very well-known room," she told the younger girl. "It was in the final year of the war, but has since been mostly forgotten about, and there are, of course, ways to make it so that no one else can get in. As far as I know, you and I are the only ones coming here." Ginny had imagined up a room full of books for studying and oversized sofas to get cozy in; large windows lined the walls and let in the warm sunlight from outside. They settled into one, taking out their assignments as they always did; as their meetings continued, they did less and less work during them, taking instead to gossiping and giggling. "So do you think you'll go to Hogsmeade with Blaise?"

"I honestly don't know," Adelinda sighed, taking the note from between the pages of her planner, tracing the words absently with a painted nail. "I want to, I do…but it makes me very nervous. I suppose I'm afraid of another confrontation, one that might be worse because it's outside of Hogwarts."

"Pansy may be quite ditzy sometimes, and she does lack more than a bit of common sense, but she can't be that stupid," Ginny scoffed. "I don't think she would try anything more than teasing, even at Hogsmeade. And if she did you'll have Blaise there. He did stand up for you at the Great Hall, even if the git didn't run after you like any proper boy would." Her words drew a laugh out of Adelinda.

"I'm sure you're right," she said with another sigh, shaking her head. "I'll have to think about it, I suppose. Maybe I'll go with him for a bit and then meet you there, assuming you're going…"

"We can all meet at The Three Broomsticks," Ginny said brightly with a smile, and when she saw Adelinda's questioning gaze, added, "It's a pub in Hogsmeade. We can meet there for lunch or just drinks, you and Harry and Hermione and Ron and I. We're all going anyway. Then you can tell us all about your date with Blaise." The redhead winked at her, already so sure that the younger girl would go. She knew how it was to be shy and reserved, and she knew what it was to feel like an outcast from the year after her involvement with Tom Riddle—people had avoided her for quite some time when word had gotten out. She wanted to do her best to make the young witch feel comfortable at Hogwarts and she wanted to help her with boys and she wanted to build up her confidence in dealing with Pansy, and anyone else who would try anything; the war was over and muggle-borns shouldn't have anything to fear now.

"It's not going to be a date!" Adelinda cried with a laugh, her cheeks red. "I mean, I don't think it is…"

"Oh, you're delusional!" Ginny giggled. "It's definitely a date. You'll need an outfit to wear and you'll need to figure out what to do with your hair and obviously you'll need a best friend to help you with all of this…"

"Why, are you offering?" Adelinda said with a smile. "Of course I'll need your help!" They continued to talk for the better part of an hour until they needed to leave for their next classes. She struggled to make the next three days pass by without seeing Blaise and giving him her (sometimes uncertain) answer, but she did it, and Monday morning she was up bright and early to make it to breakfast—flashing the boy a little smile as she passed him in the Great Hall—and then to potions. Adelinda was so anxious that she didn't think about how seeing Blaise would also mean seeing Pansy, and her eyes locked onto the woman's as she strolled into the classroom. The older girl sneered at her and she struggled to keep her face expressionless. Blaise had walked in after her and narrowed his eyes at Pansy; his mean expression gave way to a hopeful smile as he slipped onto the stool beside Adelinda.

"How are you?" he said softly. Her eyes moved from Pansy to him and brightened.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said with a small smile. "How're you?"

"I'm good." He was quiet for a moment and had opened his mouth to speak when Slughorn walked in, already bellowing out a greeting and their task for the day. At the end of every class, he had been giving the name of a slightly advanced potion, and they were to come in the next class with a short paper listing the potion's ingredients, its effects, and how it was made; for extra points they could list ingredients or steps that they thought would enhance the potion, and during the next class Slughorn would grade these papers while they brewed the potion they had researched. After a few minutes Slughorn collected the papers and set everyone to work; they retrieved their ingredients and began brewing the Volubilis Potion, or the voice-changing potion. "So...have you thought on my invitation to Hogsmeade?" Blaise asked her, seeming focused on the task at hand; she saw the way his eyes rested on her very fleetingly and couldn't help but smile.

"I have," Adelinda said quietly. She had wondered if he would mention what had happened at supper, or if he would perhaps apologize in person for not coming after all, but she had not expected it. The rational part of her said that it was unrealistic to have expected him to follow her out. "I suppose I can go for a bit."

Blaise set down the ingredients he was preparing to look over at her, a grin on his face. "You'll love it," he told her reassuringly, and with a glance at the back of Pansy's head added, "Nothing will happen." Adelinda nodded and, not wanting to dwell on the subject or think of the possibilities, turned the conversation towards Quidditch and listened to him rattle on about Beaters and brooms and a golden snitch, whatever that was.

~

It was just two days before she and Blaise would meet at the exit to the school to leave for Hogsmeade, and Adelinda was already tearing through her wardrobe in search of something to wear on Saturday. She had sent a copy of the permission slip for the trip to her parents with a long letter, and it had been signed and returned within two days. She was excited and nervous—though she refused to call it a date, it would be her first one. Finally, through use of magic, she cleared the mess of clothing off of her bed with her wand, an outfit hanging on the side of the armoire. It was time for supper, and she was famished; as she went to the Great Hall to sit with Ginny and began eating, however, she found that her stomach was not agreeing with the food. It might've been due to the way everything fluttered when she thought about the trip. She excused herself from dinner fifteen minutes early under the excuse that she had a paper due tomorrow; it was true, but the paper was already finished. She would use the extra time to finish her weekend work if she could concentrate. Adelinda walked out of the Great Hall and made towards the dungeons so she could get to it, and had not made it to the first staircase when she had fingers wrapping around her wrist.

"Amoretto, we need to talk." She whipped around to face Malfoy, her eyes resting on his pale, well-manicured hand.

"Take your hands off me, and perhaps I will consider it," she said softly, and once he did, she took a step back. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Something about this boy made her angry, made her rude; it may have been the way he spoke to her as if he had no manners himself, or perhaps the way he acted like he was so superior to everyone around him. He stared down at her with those sharp grey eyes and dark expression, and it took a bit of effort not to cringe away from his gaze.

"You need to stop sitting with the Gryffindors—" he glared at her as she parted her lips to interrupt, her blue eyes alight with anger. "—shut up. I'm serious, Amoretto, you need to stop. People are talking."

"People have been talking—" she made to walk away, having heard all of this many times before, and he grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back, a little more roughly than needed. She stared up at him, so close her chest almost touched him, too surprised to back away.

"Well, it has gotten worse. The Slytherins who don't like it, or you, are getting very hostile, Amoretto," he said seriously.

"If I didn't care a month ago, what leads you to believe I'll care now?" she asked in a sharp voice.

"Absolutely nothing, as apparently you lack any amount of common sense," Malfoy spat, shaking his head. Her cheeks flushed red and as she began to pull away again, Draco's grip on her wrist tightened a bit; he didn't realize he was doing it. Her wrist was beginning to ache where his fingers pressed into it. Her heart was pounding at the close proximity and the harshness of his words. "And obviously you are not going to listen to me. I'm warning you, Amoretto."

She took this as a threat and drew her wand quickly to aim it at his hand. "Let go of me or I will hex you into oblivion," Adelinda snarled, and when his eyes a little wide in shock, she used the little rush of satisfaction to push away from him. She turned on her heel. "I don't need your warnings."

Adelinda stormed away, seething with anger, and tucked herself into her room for a sleepless night.

The next day passed uneventfully, the night also sleepless, until on Saturday morning, she woke with butterflies in her belly; she could barely eat at breakfast, anxious in every way, and returned to her room afterwards to kill time until she was to meet Blaise. She had picked a simple outfit—Ginny's clothing advice had been to wear whatever she would on a normal day, and that was a pair of black wedged boots, snug jeans, and a black long-sleeved shirt to accommodate the cooling weather. She didn't realize it, but after spending time around Slytherins and in the common room, she had begun dressing in darker colors—she was around them so much. She was thankful for the sickles, knuts, and the occasional galleon her mother hand sent her with the weekly care packages and made a mental note to write her and tell her so later. Adelinda put her little pouch of money into her bag and slid her wand into the waist of her jeans, and did a once-over in the mirror. She thought she was a fairly attractive witch, not extraordinarily pretty, but not exactly plain. Her hair was dark and a bit wavy and reached her breasts, her eyes a pale brownish-green and her favorite feature; she was perhaps a bit short and when her pants squeezed a little too tightly she had what Muggle women had taken to calling 'muffin tops,' but normally, that didn't bother her. While Slytherins seemed to prefer tall, thin women, Italy liked their women a little less thin and a little more full. Perhaps it was all the pasta. She flashed a nervous little smile to her reflection. "_Non più preoccupante_," Adelinda said softly. No more worrying. "Everything is going to be okay." With that, she closed her wardrobe and left her room, locking the door and sliding her key around her neck; she had taken to keeping it on a silver chain her mother had given her years back that also held a small emerald pendant. Green and silver; perhaps she was meant for Slytherin. She pushed slightly bitter thoughts aside as she happily made her way towards the courtyard she would be meeting Blaise at. She reached it and searched for him. When she didn't see him she assured herself that perhaps he was just a bit late; or maybe she was a bit early. She gripped the strap of her bag with both hands a little nervously. What if it had been an elaborate trick to embarrass her, and he was going to stand her up? What if he had changed his mind? Adelinda's worries were pushed aside as she saw Blaise walking towards her, dressed in a deep green turtleneck and well-fitting black pants. She felt a bit foolish for having thoughts like those in the first place. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek; his lips were soft and the touch made her turn pink.

"I apologize for not being here on time," he said with a sheepish smile. "I woke up a bit later than I meant to."

"Oh, it's okay," Adelinda told him with a smile. "I was only here for a bit."

"I'm glad I didn't keep you waiting too long. Are we ready to leave?" she nodded and he offered her his arm, which she took happily, her hand resting in the bend of his elbow. He led her out of the courtyard, following the other students; there were several professors standing watch to ensure that the only students leaving were those who had been granted permission by their families. A handful of carriages waiting for the students, but Adelinda saw no horses to pull them; Blaise opened the door of one and helped her step into it, and as the carriage began moving, she leaned to the side and saw that there was still nothing pulling it.

"Perhaps this is a silly question, but how are the carriages moving?" Adelinda asked shyly.

He gazed out the window for a moment. "Thestrals," Blaise answered. "You know what those are?" She recalled the animal from Care of Magical Creatures, and stopped herself from asking him if he could see them…she imagined any student who had been at Hogwarts during the war could, and it was a very rude question; so they left it at that and, of course, their conversation turned to what it usual did. Quidditch. After several minutes passed by, the carriage came to a stop; Blaise got out and took her hand to help her down, never releasing it, which made her smile.

"Oh, I'm meeting some friends at The Three Broomsticks in a few hours…I hope that's okay," Adelinda told him apologetically as they began walking. He shrugged and smiled, told her it was fine, he didn't mind. As they walked through the village, he explained the shops to her, took her into the ones he thought she would like, and carried her bags for her when she bought herself something; he was a perfect gentleman, though she was slightly taken aback when he seemed to catch a man looking at her and wrapped his arm around her waist, almost possessively. She wasn't sure what to do, but she did know that she didn't mind the contact.

"Oh, a candy shop!" Adelinda pointed towards Honeydukes as if Blaise didn't know it was there.

He paused. "Did you want to go in?" he asked her, and when she nodded shrugged as if to say 'whatever you want,' leading her into the store. It seemed as though they had found the majority of the Hogwarts students in this shop; he greeted a few of them and took his arm from around her, picking up a blood-flavored lollipop and wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Can you imagine the look on someone's face as they tasted this?" When he asked her if she had ever had candy that was not made by muggles, he seemed surprised by her answer and told her to close your eyes. "C'mon, love, don't you trust me?" he teased with a smile as she gave him a weary look. "It won't be anything foul-tasting, I promise."

Adelinda closed her eyes with a dramatic sigh that made Blaise chuckle, and parted her lips. He popped some sort of mint into her mouth and told her to swallow, watching her face as she opened her eyes in surprise, her hands moving to her stomach. "_Buon Dio,_ what did you feed me!" Adelinda was holding her stomach and squirming a bit, giggling. It felt like something was bouncing around her belly—it wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but odd.

"Peppermint toad," Blaise smiled. "It'll stop in a moment. Now you know to never accept wizard candy without knowing what it is." He gave her a wink and when she shoved him playfully in return, he grabbed the hand that pushed him and pulled her close for just a moment. She almost thought he would kiss her. "Pick out some candies, as many as you want." She protested at the implication of him paying, but he held a hand up. "Humor me, love." So, as a result of humoring the Slytherin boy, Adelinda left with a bag full of Pixie Puffs and assorted lollipops, sugar quills and salt water taffy—avoiding the things that looked as though they might move in her belly. They began to walk through Hogsmeade again, arm in arm. "I want to show you the Shrieking Shack." She wondered what that was but knew she would find out. "Here." They had reached the Shrieking Shack, it seemed, though they were fairly far from it. It looked completely uninhibited, the wood weathered and windows boarded up, though some of the boards were breaking or falling where the magic binding the wood had begun to wear off. "It's said to be haunted, though I don't know if I believe it. People always say you can hear screams at night." A little chill went through her as she gazed at the Shrieking Shack, and Blaise noticed, putting an arm around her.

"Are you scared?" he teased with a grin. "Of course not," Adelinda protested. She almost said she didn't believe in ghosts, but that would certainly let the Muggle part of her show—there were ghosts all over Hogwarts, after all. They stood there for a moment and she leaned into his touch. "It's nearly time for you to meet your friends, isn't it?" she nodded and he sighed. "Have you had a good time today?"

"Yes, I have," she told him with a smile, looking up at him. "Thank you. I'm glad I came with you today."

He brought a hand to her cheek. "I'm glad you did, too." Their eyes met and her heart sped up a touch; his face came lower to hers and his lips had barely brushed hers when a shrill voice called his name, making them both jump. Adelinda was disappointed.

"Blaise!" Pansy called, standing away from them with her hands on her hips and a sneer on her face. "Draco needs you."

"For what?" he asked, his eyes going from Adelinda to Pansy and back again. Adelinda was nervous now, not sure why Pansy was there and admittedly a little scared to be left alone with her. Surely Blaise wouldn't do that.

"I don't know. He doesn't tell me anything," she whined, and then seemed to remember that Adelinda was there. She straightened up a bit. "What are you doing here with this slag?"

"Watch it, Pansy," he spat. "Where's Malfoy at?" Adelinda stayed quiet through all of this, even as the older girl called her names. She didn't know what to say.

"Hog's Head," Pansy told him, staring at Adelinda as she spoke. The younger girl was growing increasingly uncomfortable. "Great. Going there now."

Pansy shrugged at this and stood there for just a moment, watching them, before stalking off. He looked back down to her, his eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, Adelinda. I said nothing would happen." Adelinda forced a smile onto her lips.

"You're not at fault," she assured him. "Besides, I can handle a bit of name calling. As the Muggles say, sticks and stones will break your bones but words will never hurt you." She blushed at his blank look. It was a phrase her mother had repeatedly used in her childhood years, but Blaise had no reason to know it.

"I suppose I ought to meet Malfoy," Blaise said with a sigh after a brief, slightly awkward silence. "He probably just wants to talk about the game tomorrow." Adelinda nodded. Pansy seemed to be gone, and she wasn't as nervous about being left alone. He gave her directions to The Three Broomsticks, only a minute or two's walk from the Shrieking Shack, and he handed her all of the bags with several apologies. He didn't mean to leave so abruptly, he kept saying, and he wished he didn't have to leave her carrying her things, but Malfoy would have his head if he didn't show up right away. She assured him that it was fine and that she was perfectly capable of carrying her things; really, she would just shrink them to a more suitable size and slip them into her handbag. Blaise stood before her, one of his hands wrapped around hers. "I had a good time with you today," he said softly with a smile. Adelinda tilted her head up towards him.

"So did I," she said. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to her cheek, which immediately warmed.

"I'm sorry I have to leave," he said. "Be safe, love." He turned and walked in the direction of the pub he was to meet Malfoy in, and left her to herself. She didn't really mind. The weather was beautiful, if not a bit chilly, and she could enjoy the short walk to The Three Broomsticks. She was a bit disappointed that Blaise had been called away from her early, she thought as she set her bags on the ground to charm them. But she would see him again in just a day. "He left you all by yourself, did he?" She had begun to draw her wand to charm her things, but froze as she heard the familiar, snarky voice, and looked up to see Pansy and two Slytherin girls she had often seen her walking through the Corridors with. They were like little female henchmen.

"Poor Adelinda and her date, cut short. What a pity." Adelinda held her wand at her side now, watching the three girls approach wearily, her left hand clenched into a tight, nervous fist.

"What do you want, Pansy?"

"So rude! You must be learning something from us Slytherins, after all." The girl cackled. "If you were a proper Slytherin, though, you would direct that rudeness towards other houses, those lesser than you…not one of your own. But I suppose you can't truly be considered one of us, anyway, with your filthy blood." The words stung.

"Please just leave me alone," Adelinda said quietly, her eyes never leaving the girl's face. She was right in front of her now and Adelinda had to look up at the tall woman.

"Slytherins don't say please," Pansy said in a disgusting, sweet voice. "You've spent too much time around those nasty Gryffindors. My friends and I just want to show you the way a proper Slytherin acts." She kept using that phrase, 'proper Slytherin.' It was going to drive Adelinda mad.

"Why can't you just leave me be? I have done absolutely nothing to you," Adelinda said, her voice quiet but heated.

"Stop being thick, girl," Pansy spat. Her friends were quiet, just watching, smiling, anticipating trouble. "You always have his attention, and now you are with Blaise…purebloods. A Muggle-born with purebloods, it is absolutely disgusting."

"Whose attention? And why does it matter to you what Blaise does?" Adelinda was confused and concerned by her words. She was making less and less sense, and becoming increasingly mean in her taunting.

"Because he is a Slytherin, you stupid girl!" Pansy's face was mere inches from hers and her hands were gripping Adelinda's shoulders—reflexes made Adelinda raise her wand, only to have her hand grabbed and pulled behind her back by one of the other students, a tall, slightly chubby girl. Her wand was snatched from her and her hand pulled further up her back and she cried out in pain. "Now this, dear, is how a Slytherin treats someone who refuses to obey them." Adelinda's eyes were wide and scared. With her heeled boots she was nearly eyelevel with Pansy, and she could see the rage behind the girl's eyes. Her pulse had quickened in fear and she was frozen; if she moved pain would shoot through her elbow and shoulder from the hold the girl had her arm in, and she was afraid to try to do anything, worried about making things worse. "Are you going to stop talking to the Gryffindors?" Pansy asked, her fingertips brushing Adelinda's cheeks. When the younger girl didn't respond, she backhanded her, the class ring she wore hitting her mouth. She felt little tiny droplets of blood roll from the corner of her mouth. "Answer me."

"You can't really expect me to stop talking to the Gryffindors when my own house doesn't like me," Adelinda told her. She could feel her lip swelling and knew there would probably be more to come, but she didn't have it in her to give in to this girl. She was too proud, though her shaking voice did not show it.

"That's a shame," Pansy said softly. She smacked her again, and Adelinda's head snapped to the side. When she looked at Pansy again her eyes were filled with anger. Childhood memories returned to her, memories of fire and pain and bullying. She had always felt so weak, so alone, and now she felt the way she had at just nine or ten years old; she refused to take it, though, and she was afraid of what would happen if she did. She was afraid of what would happen if that anger spilt over the way it had when she was a child; she didn't want to hurt anyone again. When her other arm was pulled behind her back she cried out again, both shoulders throbbing with a sharp pain and her wrists sore where nails dug into them.

"Get off of me—" Adelinda spat, squirming against the hold of the two girls behind her, making the pain worse. "—get off of me, you crazy witches!" She tore from their grasp and stumbled forward. Pansy grabbed her arm and swung her into the ground, landing a swift kick to her ribs. She shrieked and tried to curl into a ball, but Pansy kicked her again in the same spot and she jolted in pain. She felt her arms being pushed down into the grass by the other girls' knees, all of their weight pressing into her forearms. She thrashed against them and when her foot connected with Pansy's leg, the older girl fell, catching herself and kneeling overtop Adelinda. Her knees dug into Adelinda's sides and one of her hands tangled into the roots of her hair, yanking her head up, making the younger girl cringe. Her ribs were on fire, throbbing, and her eyes were filled with tears of pain, her skin colorless save for the redness of where she had been hit. She was filled with a new terror, the fear of being restrained and the fear of having hostile faces hover above you.

"How dare you kick me!" Pansy shrieked and her hand came in contact with her face again, a closed fist. She was mentally unstable, she had to be, but either way Adelinda was in danger and in pain and she had nothing to do, nowhere to go. And yet she continued to struggle against the knees and the hands and the pain.

"How dare you do this at all!" Adelinda spat back. Pansy's wand was out and her eyes widened. "Why are you doing this?"

"I _warned_ you, Amoretto," Pansy hissed. "I kept telling you to stop, kept telling you to listen to the Slytherins. I tried to stop this." She aimed her wand at Adelinda's face and the younger girl let out a cry she hoped that someone would hear. It was stifled and turned into a gurgle as Pansy yelled, "Aguamenti!" and a stream of water hit her open mouth. She yanked her head backwards, bending her neck painfully. She tried to keep her mouth closed, but then water went into her nose and she choked on it, inhaled it, opened her mouth to try to breathe and was just met with another stream of water. Pansy was going to kill her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, she just thrashed against the girls and choked on the water, coughing and gurgling as her chest rose and fell frighteningly.

"Pansy, Pansy, I think she's had enough…" one of the girls sounded worried. Adelinda had slowly ceased the struggle against them, her body limp and her neck limp and her eyes opening and closing slowly, gazing languidly at each of the faces above her; as her chest stopped rising in falling in that worrisome fashion, her eyes closed and did not open.

**_to those of you reading who read Amoretto, I suppose you know how this bit ends...for the rest of you, enjoy the cliffhanger! next update will be up in about a week, but reviews will always speed up the process. a writer needs her motivation! :-) _**


	6. Chapter 6

Draco Malfoy was bored with Hogsmeade. He had been there for but an hour, and in all honesty, he had only gone because he wanted to see if it would ignite some sort of nostalgia, some remnant of a pleasant experience from his former school days. It didn't. So he spent his time visiting shops and walking through the village listlessly, purchasing a book or two that piqued his interest, buying a few sweets and things he actually needed; when his irritation with the younger students who flew threw the streets like banshees overwhelmed his desire to shop, he decided it was time to take leave of the place.

He wasn't sure what led him to the Shrieking Shack. Perhaps it was some form of emotional masochism; the place certainly held no good memories for him. He just wanted to _feel _something, anything, whether it be pain or pleasure. The Dark Lord had often held meetings in The Shrieking Shack late at night, and Draco had often been required to attend; he would sneak out of the school and to the Whomping Willow and join his father and the other Death Eaters. The meetings had never been anything good for him; the Dark Lord and his followers knew he had no promise as a Death Eater. He was not made for it.

He was shocked at the feeling that decided to present itself when he stumbled upon the young girl that had been grating his nerves since the first night at Hogwarts. She was lying limp on the ground before the fence separating Hogsmeade and the shack, her shopping scattered in a mess around her; Draco froze, taking in the sight before him. Her arms were splayed above her head and her torso was twisted awkwardly, her clothing soaking up the puddle beneath her. When the thought hit him that she looked dead, he forced himself to move and went to her side. "Bloody hell," Draco spat. This was not in any way a situation he would have wished to evoke emotion in him, but it had, and he was worried for the bothersome girl. He knelt beside her and grabbed her face, turning it towards him and looking her over. Her hair was drenched in what he assumed to be water, her face a deathly white and her lips grey and glistening with moisture. She had the starts of bruises on her cheek and mouth, fingerprints on her jaw, and she was not breathing.

"Bloody hell," he repeated, his voice empty. He drew his wand and hoped he was right, casting a spell to clear her airway; when her torso jerked in an attempt to breathe and a choking noise came from her throat he pulled her onto his lap and lifted her head, which immediately turned as she began vomiting water. He grimaced and pulled her hair away from her face, an arm around her shoulders to keep her at least slightly upright, and couldn't help but hope that she didn't get any on his clothes. His brief training in healing had paid off, it seemed—the vomiting had ceased and she was again limp against him, her chest heaving in an attempt to catch her breathe. As her body began to jerk with shivers he took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders, closing it over her. She seemed to be okay for a moment, and he wondered briefly if she would have been dead if he had gotten to the Shrieking Shack a moment later than he had.

Swinging into action, Draco stood with her. Her eyes were open just a bit, looking up at him and then slowly taking in her surroundings. The whites of them were bloodshot, the brilliant green of her eyes alarmingly pale. "You're okay," he murmured to her, and she seemed to accept that as she let her head fall against his shoulder. He felt a surge of affection at that gesture and pushed it away. Draco cradled her awkwardly in one arm, supporting her slightly with the other while he tried to gather her things with a flourish of her wand, shrinking them quickly to fit into his pocket—there was no way to carry the abundance of shopping and her. He slid his wand into its wrist holster and put both arms around her snugly to keep her pressed tight to his body. He was taking a risk by apparating to the Honeydukes cellar, but he would attract too much attention walking through the town with Adelinda in this state. He could only hope she would be okay. Her ragged breathing made him hurry, and once in the dark, dusty cellar he kicked aside the boxes that hid the secret passageway into Hogwarts, making his way quickly through it. He felt fingers tangle into his shirt and when he glanced down her face was screwed up in pain; he tried to make his gait a little smoother, but he was more concerned about getting her to the infirmary than he was about making the trip there pain-free. The corridors of the school were, for the most part, empty; nearly anyone who was of age to attend the school trip had, and those curious younger students who were left behind were in their common rooms or exploring the grounds with friends. He made it to the hospital wing with Adelinda and pushed open the door to it. "Madam Pomfrey!" Draco shouted, surprised by the amount of urgency in his own voice. Madam Pomfrey had apparently been surprised, as well, as she rushed from her little office.

"Over here, over here—" she gestured towards an empty bed and he carefully settled Adelinda into it. The girl grabbed the edges of the coat and squeezed it tight around her, her body shaking with fever. "—what in the world happened to her?" Pomfrey was leaning over the girl, brushing her hair from her face to inspect the bruises. She noted the pale skin and pale lips that were slowly gaining color, and opened one of her eyes gently to see an empty gaze and an angry redness.

"I found her in Hogsmeade near the Shrieking Shack. She wasn't breathing, and there was water all around her, so I cleared her throat…she started getting sick but all that came out was water." All which implied that someone had attempted to drown her. "I got her breathing, though…"

"You did good, boy," she clucked, her fingers playing over Adelinda arms and wrists to make sure there were no broken bones, When she touched her ribs the girl cringed and gave a little whimper. "We need to get her out of these clothes." She gave the Slytherin man a harsh look and he nearly rolled his eyes. He resented being addressed as 'boys' and the implication that he could not keep his eyes to himself. "Go fetch a gown and some fresh quilts from the linen closet."

He did as he was told, though he also resented being ordered about—when he returned she had covered Adelinda's mostly nude form with a sheet, and she took the gown from him first, dressing her carefully as Draco looked away. "Lift her on the count of three, careful on the ribs, there—" he raised Adelinda just enough for the healer to tear off the muddied sheets and pull the new ones onto it, and then he settled her back into the cot gently. With a flick of her wand, Madam Pomfrey had several vials at her side and a cool rag. The first was a potion to reduce the fever she had developed, she told Draco, but as she attempted to drip it into Adelinda's mouth the girl began to thrash. "Don't just stand there, boy, try to calm her down!"

Draco was filled with an overwhelmed sense of discomfort. How was he supposed to do that? He hesitated before kneeling beside the cot and running a hand through her hair. "Amoretto, it's alright," he murmured, irritated with having to do this. He was not meant for _comforting _people. "We're helping you, girl. It's alright." Her eyes opened just a bit and met his. They were tired and frightened and confused. "You're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. No one is going to hurt you here."

As Madam Pomfrey spoke, Adelinda turned her head towards the woman. She had never seen her before, but she knew by the white garments she wore that she was a healer, and the woman's plump cheeks and comforting smile seemed to put her at ease. "My name is Madam Pomfrey, and you are in the hospital wing, as Mr. Malfoy said. You've been hurt, but you will be okay. I need you to take this potion, though, dear," the woman told her softly. Draco noted that the tone of voice she used with Adelinda was much gentler and kinder than the one she had used when addressing him. "You have a fever, and we need it to come down."

Adelinda gave her a weary look but parted her lips. "This one is to heal broken bones. It's a nasty one, but I need you to take it." She sputtered a bit at the taste of the next potion, but took it without protest. Her body ached terribly and her chest was on fire, but the rest of her felt raw with cold. When she tried to pull a quilt over herself, Draco stopped her gently, gaining an approving look from the healer. "You've got a fever, dear; I know you're cold, but we can't cover you up right now."

Adelinda was not in any state to argue, and she accepted her cold fate, holding onto the coat that was wrapped around her. Draco realized he would not be getting it back anytime soon and frowned a bit. Did he really care about the garment, though? He was glad that the younger girl was okay now, and an anger had seeped into his chest that he questioned. He wanted to believe that he was angry for his ruined day that had, admittedly, not been going well in the first place, or perhaps he was angry about his very expensive coat that was soaked and wrapped around a muggle-born, or perhaps it was that he had had to take time out of his day to help her. Truly, he didn't care about any of those things. He had done a fairly good job of ridding himself of the prejudices that had been pushed on him, he could buy another coat, and his day meant nothing to him. He had many more uneventful days to come. Truly, he was angry _for _Adelinda, not at her; he wanted to know who had done this, though he had an idea, and he wanted to ensure that they were punished for it.

He did, however, have to question why he cared so much; this girl had been irritating him and filling his thoughts since she had been sorted into Slytherin. At first, he had not understood why she was sorted into his house. She seemed so meek, so polite, so eager to please the people around her, and those were not the qualities of a Slytherin girl. As he tried harder and harder to get under her skin without success, he began to understand. She possessed some sort of inner strength. She was proud and she was clever, irritating as she was, and there was a mean streak under there somewhere that was hidden quite well with manners and etiquette and sweetness, and she seemed quite reluctant to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her defeated. And she had her flaws, she certainly did. But perhaps that was what made him so angry; in that moment, she had been defeated.

Madam Pomfrey's inquisitive voice broke Draco from his thoughts. "I need her name, and I need a statement from you," she said. Adelinda had lost consciousness again, which was perhaps for the better. The shivering had subsided a bit and the color was slowly returning to her skin, but she still held the coat around her tightly. "Do you know of anyone who would want to know that she is here, besides her parents?" She had procured a piece of parchment and a quill, and handed it to him.

"Granger, and the Weasley girl," Draco told the woman immediately. "I'm sure they're still in Hogsmeade."

"It is my understanding that you have a background in healing?" Draco nodded, and took a seat in the chair beside the bed. "Good. Stay here for a few moments, and watch over here. I need to contact the headmaster, and Slughorn, and her parents…do you have any idea who did this to her?" the woman turned a scrutinizing eye on him.

A sullen sigh escaped his lips. "I can't say for sure," he told her quietly. "But I have an idea." He was hesitant to say her name. As infuriating as the older Slytherin girl was, he still had an old sense of house loyalty. Madam Pomfrey looked at him impatiently. "Pansy Parkinson. I think it may have been her. I doubt if she could do all this alone though…" The woman was not a particularly talented witch, and she was not physically strong; her strongest suit was her keen ability for mind games. That would not have helped her with Adelinda.

"Do you have any idea why she would have done this?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest as she lingered on his words.

Draco was, again, hesitant, this time out of shame. "Adelinda is a Muggle-born that was sorted into Slytherin, and none of us took kindly to her, so she looked for friendships in other houses…" he gave a small, bitter smile. "…unfortunately, her search led her to the Gryffindors, and as you can imagine, there were some people _very _upset by that...some people who are still very prejudiced."

Pomfrey's expression turned to disgust at the thought of the prejudices that did still exist in some people. "Well, I hope that you were not one of the people who turned her away from her own house," she said stiffly, and went back to her office to take care of the things she needed to do for Adelinda.

Draco knew that he _had _been one of those people; he was the first person she had interacted with outside of the sorting ceremony, and he had been outright rude. He had done nothing to welcome her, and though he had tried to dispel the gossip about her, it hadn't been enough. Perhaps if he had been a little more pleasant to her, others would have followed suit. Or perhaps not. He wasn't one to beat himself up over things like this, and he distracted himself from his thoughts by writing the statement Madam Pomfrey had requested, glancing at Adelinda every time she shifted or took a breath that didn't sound quite right. He scowled when he realized just how worried he was for her, even now that he knew she would be okay.

Just as he finished writing the statement that held all the information he had given the healer, Ginny and Hermione burst through the door. They came to an abrupt halt when they saw him. "What are _you _doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, folding her arms over her chest. The memory of her fist landing a punch to his cheek back in their Third Year floated around the back of his mind. He no longer felt the animosity he had held for her back then; he was, for the most part, indifferent towards her.

"I found her," Draco told them, leaning back in his chair. He set the paper and quill on the nightstand beside Adelinda's bed. "And brought her here. Try not to look so angry about it."

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. Even after all these years, she still couldn't stand Malfoy. He was much too pompous and snarky for her tastes. "You're not needed here anymore."

"'Mione," Ginny scolded. Out of their group of friends, she had always been the more open-minded one, and she was not so quick to judge or hold grudges. "Thanks, Malfoy—"

"That was quick." Madam Pomfrey's voice interrupted. She had left her office at the sound of more voices, wanting to stop any conflict between the Gryffindors and the lone Slytherin before it could begin. "She's alright now. She'll probably be sick for a few days, she was on the edge of something Muggles call hypothermia, I'm sure Ms. Granger knows what it is." She underestimated all three of the students' knowledge of the Muggle world. "Mr. Malfoy, you may leave now, if you wish."

He nodded and as he picked up the statement to hand it to the healer, he looked down at Adelinda. Her hair stuck to her face where she was sweating, the fever still there, and her skin was still pale but her lips were pink instead of grey; the bruises on her face were startling and provided an almost painful contrast. Ginny and Hermione were quiet as they observed the girl with him.

"What happened? Do you know?" Ginny's eyes turned towards him. "We were waiting for her at the Three Broomsticks…she was supposed to meet us after she went out with Zabini. And she just never showed up."

"She was with Blaise?" his eyes turned towards Adelinda again for a moment. He did recall the two talking about it in potions…he was not proud to admit to himself that he did, on occasion, eavesdrop. If she was with Blaise, why had he left her alone? His chest burned with anger as the idea came to him that perhaps Blaise had helped Pansy plan something. He snatched up his wand. "Pomfrey will explain the rest to you."

He took quick leave of the hospital wing with one last glance at Adelinda. He was determined to find Blaise. The students would be returning to Hogwarts soon, and he would be waiting for him to figure out what in the bloody hell had happened.

~

Several hours had passed, and Adelinda had spent that time sleeping. Ginny and Hermione stayed at her side and their boyfriends had joined them. The boys especially were infuriated. These prejudices were supposed to be over; it was three years after the end of the Second War, and a girl had gotten hurt because of a pureblood's narrow views. There were many laws in place to prevent this sort of thing, and many more laws in place to punish those who committed crimes against Muggle-born witches and wizards. The Ministry had cracked down after the war; the reality of the pureblood prejudices and the strength of them had been pushed in their faces by Voldemort. Pansy was of age, but she was also a student, and Harry even admitted that he wasn't sure how the laws would apply to her—if at all.

When Adelinda's eyes finally fluttered open, Ginny leaned a bit closer after an excited whisper telling the others that she was waking up. "It's not as if I was in a coma," the younger girl muttered, her voice hoarse. She grimaced. Her throat was raw, and it hurt to speak. Ginny handed her a cup of water and she took little, slow sips.

"We were worried," Hermione said with a shrug. "How do you feel?"

"Sore," Adelinda never brought her voice above a loud whisper. "My throat hurts. My body hurts." She was trying very hard not to think of why this was so. The girls waved their hands at Harry and Ron, telling them to leave. Harry gave Adelinda's hand a little squeeze and Ron told her he hoped she felt better, and they took leave of the hospital wing.

"Adelinda, what happened?" Hermione prodded gently. She took a seat on the bed beside her. "Why wasn't Blaise with you?"

The younger girl closed her eyes for a moment. "Blaise was going to take me to The Three Broomsticks, 'cause I didn't know where it was," she said softly. "We went to the Shrieking Shack first, he was just giving me a tour of Hogsmeade…Pansy showed up and told him that Malfoy needed him." Ginny took on an expression of concern. Something was not right. "After Pansy was gone, he gave me directions to the pub and left. And a few minutes later she showed up with two girls, and then...well, you know what happens next, I'm sure…"

Ginny gave a nod. "Yeah, we do…do you remember Malfoy coming to help you?"

Adelinda blinked. "I sort of do…I remember him holding me, but I wasn't sure if that was right or not," she told them in that soft whisper. "And I remember him being here a little."

"Okay. You don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to," Hermione said gently. "I wish you didn't have to go back to Slytherin common room, but there's no way around it. Malfoy is going to take you there once you can leave."

"Okay," she said softly. She didn't want to be around any Slytherins. She was grateful to Malfoy for bringing her here and helping her, but she was questioning his involvement in it. He and Pansy did seem to be friends on some level; what if he had helped her get Adelinda alone? The thought frightened her. She had no one in the Slytherin house that she could trust. It had even run through her head that Blaise had been involved. He was the one who had taken her to the Shrieking Shack, after all; she wasn't so naïve as to rule him out.

Adelinda spent the night in the hospital wing. McGonagall came to see her the next day, and told her that she had informed her parents of what had happened, but had convinced them that Adelinda was alright; she gave her the option of them coming to see her, but Adelinda would rather them not see her this way, even though all she wanted was a hug from her mother and to see her father's protective face. She knew they were worried, but they would probably pull her out of Hogwarts the second they saw her lying in the infirmary. McGonagall said she understood and would owl them, but encouraged her to write them when she could and assure them herself that she was doing okay.

And then they spoke of what would happen to Pansy. "I don't think the Ministry is going to get involved," the witch told her with a sigh. Adelinda was sitting up in the hospital cot with a tray of food before her. Her throat was still raw and she hadn't eaten much of it. "We are going to inform her parents, and I'm confiscating her wand for an undetermined amount of time; I will also take the wands of whoever was involved. They will not be allowed to Hogsmeade anymore, and I've yet to determine what else will happen to them if the ministry does not punish them. This sort of thing is tricky to deal with, with all the new laws and the political tension…I am sorry, Miss Amoretto."

Adelinda managed a little smile. Her bottom lip was swollen and her face bruised, and the movement hurt. "It's okay, Professor."

McGonagall stood, and leaned down to place a very uncharacteristic, sweet kiss on the top of Adelinda's head. "Come to me if you need anything, or if anyone says anything to you. I mean it, dear."

The kiss warmed her heart for a moment, and she nodded. McGonagall left, and Malfoy came in. She did not particularly want to be around him, but he was Head Boy, and the task of helping Adelinda had fallen to him. She was almost being treated as a First Year. Madam Pomfrey had even gone as far to give all of the potions she was to take to Malfoy, and had written down the instructions for them on a slip of parchment. It frustrated her; she was more than capable of medicating herself. "Are you ready?"

Adelinda nodded. She wore the clothes she had been brought in wearing, though they had been cleaned. She stood, and all her movements were careful. She was still sore; her torso and her arms ached and her face throbbed with every expression, and it made her slow. Malfoy seemed completely indifferent to everything, but his eyes followed her movements and he didn't seem as impatient as he normally would have been when dealing with her; or perhaps, Adelinda thought, he was impatient with everyone. It wasn't unlikely. He led her through the corridors; it was dinnertime, and the corridors were, for the most part, empty, as well as the Slytherin common room. Thinking of supper made her realize how hungry she was, and as Malfoy handed her the key to her room her stomach rumbled. She wasn't going into the Great Hall, though. She wouldn't.

She opened the door to her room and looked towards Malfoy. "You can come in," she said a bit awkwardly. He did have her medicines, after all.

Draco entered the room, leaving the door open behind him. He took the little pouch full of vials from his robe pocket and placed them on her desk. There was one for fever, one for healing, and one for pain, and she had to take them every few hours; the hardest part of that would be waking up to take them. Adelinda took a seat on the foot of her unmade bed, feeling exhausted from the walk to her room. She had been so excited for the trip to Hogsmeade that she had left her bedroom in an uncharacteristic state of chaos. The bed was unmade, clothes were strewn on the floor before the wardrobe, and her school things were scattered across her desk. She was a little embarrassed for anyone to be seeing her room in such a state, and stopped herself before she apologized for it.

"What happened to my things…?" Adelinda wondered aloud. Her throat was still a bit raw, her voice scratchy.

"I have them." Malfoy pulled the little shrunken packages from his robe, and returned them to their normal size, setting them in a neat pile by her desk. He was a little peeved by the state of her room, but said nothing of it. He hated a messy person and he hated a messy bedroom even more.

"My wand?" Adelinda's heart dropped at the thought that perhaps Pansy had broken it in some sort of cruel gesture, but she felt a surge of relief when the Slytherin man pulled that from a pocket, as well. She was briefly amazed by how many things a wizard could carry. She took her wand and looked it over in her lap, running her fingers along the dark wood absently. She felt like crying, and she wasn't sure why. She felt emotionally and physically drained and all she wanted to do was lay in bed. "You can go, if you want…" she said softly as she realized Malfoy still stood there awkwardly, watching her. A part of her hoped he would stay; he was helping her, and that had pushed the thoughts of his involvement out of her mind. She didn't particularly want to be alone.

"Are you going to be okay?" The question slipped from his lips before he could stop it. God forbid the girl see that he cared. And yet, he followed it with, "Do you need anything?"

"I'll be okay," Adelinda said softly, her eyes still directed towards her wand. She wasn't really looking at anything. She did need food, but she wouldn't ask—her growling stomach gave that away.

"Are you hungry? You haven't eaten anything." Draco cursed himself; he wasn't sure why he was so worried for her, but he was, and he knew by the rumbling of her belly and the look on her face as he mentioned eating that she was starving.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted with a little shake of her head, looking up at him. The glossiness of her eyes and the bruises on her cheeks tugged at heart strings he hadn't really known he'd had.

He shook his head. "You're not going to feel any better if you don't eat. I'm going to go get us food from the kitchens, since I had to miss dinner to bring you back to your room, and you're going to change into clean clothes while I'm gone, and after you eat you can take your potions." The words sounded like orders and he promptly left the room, leaving her staring at the closed door. She didn't quite understand the pureblooded man. He acted like he didn't have the time of day for her, and now he was helping her, not even letting her decline his offers for food.

She pushed herself up and pulled a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from her wardrobe. She didn't really care that Malfoy would be seeing her dressed so poorly. He had seen her unconscious and beaten; it couldn't be much worse than that. She changed quickly and did not glance in the mirror. She didn't want to see the bruises she could already feel on her ribs and arms, and she didn't really want to see what her face looked like, either. She ran a brush painfully through her hair, and finally gave up and cast a detangling spell on it, climbing into her bed with her wand and pulling a quilt around herself, staring absently at the wall as she awaited Malfoy's return.

Adelinda was sad. That was the best way for her to describe it; it was a deep, calm sorrow. She had been so afraid of something like this happened, but she had never thought that it would come to real violence. Harmless hexes and mean names and taunts, perhaps, but not the violence that Pansy and her friends had displayed. It was too reminiscent of school as a child, when she had cast herself aside from the muggle children and then faced the consequences of not blending into society. She hadn't realized, though, what would happen—and this time, she had been too stubborn to give into the Slytherins and push aside her Gryffindor friends. A part of her did regret that, but the stubborn half of her was angry at the regret. She was angry that it had come to this, angry that such prejudice still existed after the war, and she was angry that she had been hurt and humiliated. She was angry that she was sitting in her bedroom near tears because a twenty year old woman had the mentality of a small, bigoted child. She gave a deep sigh and struggled to push the negativity away. Malfoy would be back soon, and she couldn't let herself cry. As she calmed herself, he knocked on the door and called out that it was him, and she told him to come in. He had taken her key with him.

Her mouth watered at the tray full of food he had with him, and she saw the little smirk on his face as he looked at her; she ignored it. He set the food down on the bed before her and pulled her chair up beside it. "I got a little bit of everything," Malfoy said with a shrug. "Wasn't sure what you like to eat."

She wasn't even listening to him. She hadn't eaten in two days, since she had skipped breakfast the morning of the Hogsmeade trip, and the only thing she had had in her belly since then was a few bits of candy. She ignored the pain in her throat as she sipped soup and ate a roll and spooned pudding into her mouth. When her hunger had been satisfied a bit, she remembered that Malfoy was there and met his eyes. She was eating like she hadn't eaten in a week and pushed away the bit of embarrassment at that. He seemed amused by it and she scowled; his amusement seemed to grow at that.

"You're going to get a stomachache if you keep eating like that," he told her, taking a small flask of pumpkin juice from the tray and sipping it, leaning back in the chair.

"I was hungry," she said a little defensively, almost pouting. She pulled her quilt around herself again and drew her knees slowly to her chest, leaning her chin against them.

Draco watched her absently as he ate slowly and sipped at the flask. It was a curious thing, what she did to his feelings and his thoughts. She seemed to soften him, just a bit, especially as she was now, bruised and battered. It made him want to help her, even if she was completely capable of helping herself; he knew she was. She wasn't useless, this little Slytherin girl, not at all. And he had no doubt that in the right situation, she could hold her own.

He watched the way little pieces of hair slipped from behind her ear as she leaned her chin against her knees, he watched the way her eyes glazed over in thought and the way her arms wrapped around her legs. Then he wondered at what she was wearing. Baggy grey pants that were rolled at the waist and a snug black shirt made her look a little adorable, but also very odd. "What are you wearing?" he questioned her, an eyebrow raised.

She blinked at him. "You don't get out into the Muggle world much, do you?" he took this as a taunt and scowled. "They're sweatpants. Very comfy, really, loads more comfortable than the dress clothes you've got under there." She nodded towards his robes.

"Hmph." He continued to drink his juice. Muggle clothes were odd. They did look rather comfortable, though, and he could appreciate the way certain articles of Muggle clothing looked on women. He would be a fool not to.

They spent several minutes in a silence that was only slightly uncomfortable. "Can I ask you some things?" Adelinda said softly. Her briefly lifted mood seemed to have fallen again.

The question made him uncomfortable. There were too many possibilities, too many things she could ask him. "Sure." He didn't necessarily have to _answer _all her questions, though.

Adelinda was quiet again. He looked at her, eyebrows raised, waiting, watching her worry her bottom lip until she split the scab at the corner of it. She cringed and he handed her a tissue from the box on her desk. She pressed it to her mouth for a minute. "Why were you the one to find me yesterday?" she asked softly, not looking at him.

He understood her question. His presence had been a little suspicious, and after confronting Blaise yesterday and learning that the Slytherin had been told to meet him, he could understand her worry. He had just happened to show up where Pansy had left her. "I was just walking around, and I…" he paused. He did _not _want this to get personal, but his reasoning for being at the Shrieking Shack was very personal. "…I've had some experiences at the Shack that I was thinking on, and I just went there…and then I found you."

Adelinda seemed to accept that. "Blaise was supposed to be meeting you somewhere," she said softly, a lilt in her words that turned it into a shaky question.

He looked down. "Yeah. I talked to him." His voice took on a sharp edge that made her cringe internally. "Pansy told him that to make him leave, I suppose, I don't know. Perhaps she knew he would do it if it involved me and she needed him gone and you alone. But I assure you, I had no knowledge of it." Draco watched her expression; he wanted her to believe him so badly. He didn't want her to think poorly of him, though the fact that she was allowing him into her room already showed him that she didn't truly believe him to have a part in her assault.

Adelinda nodded, her gaze empty. She was silent for a moment. "Are you and Blaise friends?" she asked after awhile; he was surprised by the question and her empty gaze, indifferent attitude, deep in thought and only partly paying attention to Draco.

"I would say that acquaintances is a better word for it," he told her carefully, not sure where the conversation was headed. "I suppose we were close at one point…"

She turned that empty gaze to him. Her demeanor kept changing and he wasn't sure what to think of it. "Was he…involved…in the war? Did he hate Muggle-borns, too?" There was sadness behind her eyes. She knew that it was probably a sensitive subject, but she needed to know what to think of Blaise, and she was trusting this boy in front of her to give her true answers.

Malfoy seemed hesitant to answer this. It was a very painful subject, but it was an awkward one to be discussing with a Muggle-born, one he had not been very nice to; even more awkward because he himself had been so prejudiced. Really, he had been voicing the lessons drilled into him by his parents, his child mind having been easy to sculpt to the perfect pureblooded mentality. But he had still believed it all up to a point. Up until the final battle, where he saw the way the "blood-traitors" and Muggle-borns had all stood together against the Dark Lord's followers and how the purebloods, the ones who "stuck together," only looked out for themselves. It was then that he had realized blood status meant nothing but politics. "His family was, and…well, yes, he had your typical pompous pureblood mentality, but…we all did, us Slytherins," he looked down to avoid her scrutinizing gaze. "And many of us have actually changed our views. I can't speak for him, though, Amoretto. I don't know what he believes now."

She seemed to accept this. "Do you…think he was involved?" her shaky voice made him look up and their eyes met. He could see the hope in her gaze, and wondered fleetingly how much she liked Zabini.

"I don't know," Draco said after a long moment of silence. "I'm not sure what to think of the situation."

He said nothing else on it and instead reached behind him to get her potions, portioning them properly and handing them to her. He watched her take each one quickly, screw her face up in disgust, and wash away the taste with pumpkin juice. "How are you feeling?"

She was leaning back against her headboard, snuggled into her quilt, propped on her side amidst all the pillows that were piled up to support her. "Sore," she said. "Like I've got a terrible case of the flu without the sickness."

Draco nodded. "That'll get better with the potions. You're out of classes for the week, so that's something, yeah?" she gave a little shrug.

"I'm going to fall behind," Adelinda said sadly. "I actually kind of enjoy classes…"

Malfoy snorted. "You're mad, woman," he told her. "Just like Granger."

She blinked at him. It hit her how nice he was being to her; this was the first real conversation they had had since meeting, and as much as she hated to admit it, she enjoyed his presence. She attributed that to her state of health. "What made you come back to Hogwarts?"

She realized as soon as she asked how deep that question could truly be, and as Malfoy looked at his lap and shook his head, she was spewing apologies. "You don't have to answer, I'm sorry—"

"It's fine, Amoretto," he said with another shake of his head, looking at her. "Just…a very personal question."

"I'm sorry," she said again in a meek, embarrassed voice. She unconsciously hid her face a bit with the quilt, and as they faced a somewhat awkward silence, she felt herself getting drowsier; an effect of the potion to reduce pain. Within minutes she was dozing, her eyelids shut and fluttering every now and then. Draco just watched her fall out; she needed her rest, and she did look sweet, laying there…he pushed that thought aside and as he heard a light little snore come from the bundle of blankets, he moved the tray from the bed and put it on the chair he had been sitting in and tucked the blankets around her.

She felt him adjusting the blankets and blinked slowly, making out his blurred form as he opened the door. She was filled with a sudden fear at being alone and started to sit up some; he turned around and took in her disheveled hair and big, tired eyes. "Stay?" she blurted out in a sleepy voice.

He stood there for a moment, shocked at the request and a little frustrated at having to stay, but he obliged; something he wouldn't have done for anyone else. He shut the door and returned to his seat. "I'll stay," he said quietly. "Get some rest."

She gave him a soft, tired "thank you" and returned to her pillows, gripping her blankets around herself and closing her eyes again.

**_I had intended on this chapter being much longer, but it felt like a good place to leave off. The next update will be in about a week; until then, please review and thank you to those who have :)_**


	7. Chapter 7

Adelinda spent the night tossing and turning and woke up to an empty bedroom and breakfast on her desk; Malfoy's doing, she supposed, which surprised her. She couldn't say she understood his sudden change in attitude towards her, but instead of dwelling on it, attributed it to pity or sympathy or perhaps just compassion. She certainly appreciated the food; she wasn't planning on leaving her room except to shower. She didn't want to face anyone, and a part of her did wish her parents would come and scoop her away from Hogwarts. It hadn't treated her well so far.

She pushed herself out of bed and checked the time, taking her medicines and popping a biscuit into her mouth. She wasted the next few hours away doing schoolwork that she wouldn't be able to turn in, and she wrote her parents a letter that she had to cut short when she began to get emotional. The goal was, after all, to convince them that she was alright. She read, she reorganized, she did anything she could to entertain herself before taking her medicine again and falling back into bed for several hours. When she finally woke, it was to a knocking on her door and the last light of the day peeking through the small window in her room.

Adelinda pushed herself up, rubbing at her eyes, groggy and grumpy at being woken, and also confused. She went to the door. "Who is it?" she called out.

"It's Malfoy."

She raised an eyebrow and cracked the door to peek out at him. "Come in."

Her mouth watered at the new tray of food he had in his hands, though she still hadn't finished what he had left for breakfast. "You don't have to keep bringing me food, y'know," she said stubbornly, shutting the door behind him.

Malfoy shrugged, strolling into the room. He set the tray of fresh, delicious-smelling food down on the desk and smirked as he saw Adelinda eying it. "Now, how would you eat if I weren't bringing it to you?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at her. She said nothing. "That's what I thought."

She fumed a little. He was so _arrogant. _He was helping her, though…her emotions were becoming more and more mixed on the man. The thought came to her that she had a twenty year old man in her bedroom, and she wondered what her father would say if he knew that. She tried not to giggle. The situation was so potentially scandalous and she was very sure that this was not what her parents had imagined would happen when they sent her to Hogwarts. "Well, thank you, I suppose," she said after a moment. She glanced out the window at the darkening sky. Everyone would be at supper, and surely he couldn't just walk out of the Great Hall with a tray full of food. "Where do you get this food from, anyhow?"

"The kitchens, where else?" He said it as though it were common knowledge and she shrugged.

"Not like I've been at this school for seven years like everyone else," she said with a shrug. She climbed onto her bed and sat with her legs folded under her, covering her mouth as she yawned. Malfoy watched her, taking in her disheveled look. Her hair was a bit frizzy and curled oddly in some parts, her eyes glossy with sleep and her bruised cheeks rosy. "Did you just wake up?" he asked her, his eyes lingering on the dark spots on her pale skin. The bruises made him want to cringe. He would have to remember to bring her a tin of bruise-away paste; he kept a good stock of it himself for Quidditch. Couldn't have his porcelain skin tainted by ugly discolorations.

"I took a bit of a nap," she said defensively, feeling as though she was shrinking beneath his scrutinizing game. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything," he told her with a same smirk. "Just observing, that's all." He plopped down in her desk chair, leaning back and crossing his legs. He was out of his robes but still in his school uniform. The black pants fit him nicely, as did the white button-up shirt and Slytherin tie that was loosened around his neck…she gave herself a little mental shake. Bad things seemed to happen when she decided a boy was cute, especially those that were Slytherin and three-four years her senior.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Adelinda said with a sigh. She ran her fingers through her messy hair self-consciously. He looked so perfectly disheveled, and she just looked…messy. _Oh well, _she thought, and tossed her little insecurities to the side. Malfoy moved the tray to the bed in front of the younger girl and watched her pick at a piece of chicken.

"I've got your assignments from the week-" he told her after a few moments of silence, letting her eat. She glanced up.

"You didn't have to do that," she said quietly.

He seemed to ignore it. "—you've got a few assignments from Slughorn, the usual, a paper to write for History of Magic, a note from Hagrid, a few other things. Not too much. All of the professors send their _sincerest well wishes." _He took on a mocking tone as he passed on the message. At the mention of Slughorn, she realized that when she returned to class, she would have to sit next to him, and behind Pansy…and she dreaded it.

"Thank you…why'd you get all of it? I'm sure it took forever," Adelinda asked him cautiously. She knew it would be impolite to ask him why he was being so nice to her, but she was growing weary of it. This was not the Malfoy she had seen in the past month; that Malfoy was civil and cold at best. This one was…well, still rather rude, but in a much warmer way than before.

"I'm Head Boy, it's my responsibility," he said with a shrug. She recalled him telling her she could find her own way around the first night at Hogwarts, even though the responsibility of helping her had been put onto him…of course, he had eventually given in to that, too. It was she that had turned away his help in the end when she moved to the Gryffindor table. In hindsight, she really hadn't even tried to make friends in Slytherin.

She was quiet for awhile, twirling a spoon slowly through a bowl of pudding. She looked up, her eyes locking into his. He almost began to fidget beneath her serious stare, those olive eyes staring holes into his own. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she finally asked him, her voice void of emotion.

"I'm hea—"

"No, none of this 'I'm Head Boy' nonsense, you have held that title since the year began and you were never nice to me," she told him in an almost scolding tone. He kept his eyes on hers, both of them refusing to look away. Two proud people locked in a staring contest; it could go on forever, he thought. He wasn't sure what this was or where this sudden surge of confidence had come from in her, but he could better deal with this than sadness, and he wasn't complaining. She truly did remind him of Granger. Stubborn as a mule—but not as, well, snotty. "Tell me why you're being so nice."

Draco settled back into his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He was quiet for a moment as he watched her, and she was the one to resist squirming beneath his gaze. "I suppose you wouldn't accept any fellow-slytherin, no-man-left-behind 'nonsense,' either."

"No. No, I would not," Adelinda said indignantly. She folded her arms over her chest and straightened her back. His eyes followed her every move.

Draco sighed heavily, as if the conversation was a burden, and she kept from rolling her eyes at the boy. "Well," he began slowly, drawing the word out and taking another pause. "If I am to be completely honest…" another pause, and she frowned at him. "…I feel bad."

"You _feel _bad?" Adelinda said, eyebrows raised. "You feel bad, so you're helping me. Pity, how delightful—"

"—shut up. I was going to say, I feel bad because I know I was a downright _prat _to you, and, well, perhaps if I hadn't have been this wouldn't have happened," Malfoy told her, looking a little uncomfortable at this sharing of feelings.

Adelinda shook her head. She was offended. "_Buon Signore_, you think that none of this would have happened if you had been _nice _to me." She snorted in mock laughter, and he realized as she repeated his words back to him how pitiful that sounded. "You are the most arrogant boy I have ever met, you know that, yes? I don't need your help anymore."

"Amoretto, I—" he was almost feeling bad at the way his explanation had come across.

"Out," she said with a shake of her head. "Thank you for your help, but please leave now." Always polite. Kind of.

His hurt ego turned quickly to anger. "You just don't know how to accept any help, do you?" he said sharply, pushing himself to his feet. "You're going to run right back to those Gryffindors, and none of this is going to get any better. Do what you want. I don't care."

She said nothing to this, but her face flushed red in an anger that surpassed his. "Out," she repeated, and he left, shutting the door hard behind him. She slumped over in defeat, staring at the food and class work he had left behind; Adelinda wondered if she had overreacted. Help was help, and he hadn't had ulterior motives in doing it; only that he felt bad. He had had good intentions.

"And good intentions pave the road to hell," she muttered bitterly, pushing her blanket from around herself and huffing as she got tangled in it. She had lost her appetite; pushing the tray to the foot of her bed, she pulled the stack of books and assignments closer. Schoolwork was a nice distraction, and she certainly needed one. But it didn't work. She kept thinking about Blaise, about Malfoy, about the fear she had felt when she was being pinned down and choked out with water. She kept thinking about the tender bruises on her cheeks and the fact that in a couple of days, she would have to return to classes. She told herself that no one would even notice. She had make up that she could try to cover the bruises with, and maybe Hogwarts wasn't like Muggle school where gossip spread like wildfire; she knew that Hermione and Ginny wouldn't have spoken a word of it to anyone, and despite her somewhat poor opinion of Malfoy she didn't think that he would, either. He seemed to keep to himself when it came to gossip and other people's business. It was Pansy and her friends that she knew would have told people, though if they were smart, they would keep it to themselves. The only people that would sympathize with them were Slytherins, and they were outnumbered by every other house.

That thought was reassuring, and it was all she could think about as she worked on assignments and finally went to bed.

The next morning, when she woke, she realized that she would have to eat. She doubted Malfoy would be bringing her any more food, and her pride preferred it that way. She waited until she knew that classes would begin and gathered her things to go to the showers; she hadn't bathed since the morning of the trip and felt disgusting. When she opened her door to leave, though, there was a small tray of food and a small container of something sitting in front of it. She frowned and crouched, picking up a slip of parchment.

_This is bruise paste. Put it on every few hours. And you're going to have to go to breakfast sometime, you know. –D_

"Bloody hell," she muttered, picking up the tray. There were a few pieces of toast, some fruit, a bowl of porridge and what looked like pumpkin juice. Was it another act of pity? Her first thought would have been that it was an apology, but Malfoy was too proud for that. She took it as it was. She was grateful for another morning that she could avoid breakfast, but she would have to go for lunch. She wouldn't let Malfoy continue to bring her food after she had told him off the day before.

She set the food on the bed; she had several trays and bowls and cups stacked on her desk, and she wondered what on earth she was going to do with them. She picked up the bruise paste, opening the container and sniffing it. Smelled like bruise paste, looked like bruise paste. She wondered why Malfoy had it and assumed that it was for Quidditch injuries. She would put it on after a bath; no point in putting it on only to wash it off.

She pulled her hair back and bundled her clothes and towel in her arms, grabbing her wand and her key and leaving for the bathing room. It was separate from the toilets; on one side were showers enclosed in stalls, on the other a few large tubs with curtains you could pull. Through the middle of the large room were two rows of sinks and mirrors that you could sit down at; little stools were pushed neatly beneath the counters. There was only one large full-length mirror in the bathroom, and in the mornings girls fought like lions over it. Beside it were shelves full of shampoos, conditioners, skin products and bubble baths; the girls who were smart enchanted theirs to give anyone who tried to use it a nasty shock, or kept it in her room. As a result, no one really touched other people's things.

Adelinda pulled a stool over to the tub to set her clothes onto it, and took her bath things from the shelf she kept them on, pushed to the back behind the others. She had a thought that perhaps she should begin keeping them in her room, lest Pansy decide to pull some nasty prank and switch her shampoo with some sort of potion. Yeah, she would take them back to her bedroom with her. She was sure she had something she could put them in.

She began to fill the tub with hot water, pouring some bubble bath into the water beneath the faucet. She wanted to soak her sore body and relax for awhile, something she never got to do because there were always other people when she came in to bath; maybe she would start bathing at night after everyone had gone to bed. Waking up early enough to do it was simply out of the question. She pulled off the sweatpants and shirt she still wore from the day before and folded them in a neat pile beside the bathtub. She let the tub fill and sank into the bubbles, leaning her head against the rim. Adelinda sat like that until her skin was pruned and the water cool before washing herself and letting the tub drain, thinking about nothing; she rinsed in one of the showers and wrapped her towel around her hair. No one came into the bathing rooms during the day; everyone bathed before classes began or after the school day ended, and she was safe to lounge and walk as she pleased. As she walked past the full-length mirror, she didn't want to anymore. She stared at the bruises that decorated her ribs and the lighter ones on her arms; the bruises on her ribs were the worst but the ones on her face more colorful. Her lip was still a little swollen and red, and her eyes watered as she looked at herself. "Stop it," she said to her reflection, feeling a little silly as she did so. "Stop wallowing."

Adelinda turned promptly away and dried herself, pulling on her uniform. She wouldn't wear her robes to the Great Hall at lunch time but it would look a touch odd if she went out of uniform. She tossed her towel into the bin; house elves came during the mornings when everyone was at classes to gather the dirty towels and straighten the bathing rooms. Gathering her clothing lothes and her bathroom essentials, she went back to her room, immediately and liberally applying the bruise paste to her face.

She had hours to go before lunch but she found she had lost her appetite already without even eating breakfast; her nerves were shot with the idea of being amongst schoolmates. She passed the time by writing each of her parents another letter, straightening her room, anything she could to distract herself. Finally, just before lunch she went to the owlery to send off her letters and spend a little time with Isis, feeding her far too many treats. She jumped as the bell chimed throughout the castle and pushed herself up, giving the owl a little peck on the top of the head; the affectionate gesture was returned with a gentle peck to Adelinda's finger. "No more treats," she told the bird with a smile. "Go deliver those letters, you silly thing." She shooed her out of the window and made her way towards the Great Hall.

No one seemed to pay her much mind in the corridors, and it put a bit of her anxiety to rest. The glances towards her bruises were fleeting, and she felt silly for thinking that everyone would stare; there were hundreds of students in the school. No one would stop to pay attention to a girl that not many people knew. When she did receive stares, she made eye contact and continued walking.

Adelinda took a deep breath before walking into the Great Hall. She had come in with the large crowd of people that came in as soon as their class ended; the more people around her the less she would be noticed. But as she strolled past the Slytherin table, she heard someone calling her name. "Adelinda!"

Adelinda's heart jumped and she slowed, turning her head and meeting Blaise's eyes. He sat at the end of the table, and Pansy was just a few seats down from him. He began to push himself up and made to walk over to her. _Funny, _she thought bitterly, her lightened mood turning uncharacteristically sour, _I would think that if someone attacked the girl you liked, you wouldn't want to be anywhere near them…_Pansy was giving her an wicked grin, having turned as Blaise called her name, and Adelinda's face darkened. She turned on her heel, too soon to see Malfoy saying something nasty to Parkinson and grab Zabini's arm, stopping him from approaching her.

Her heart lightened again as she saw Hermione and Ginny already sitting down. Ginny jumped to greet her, pulling her into a tight hug that hurt her ribs, but she returned it with equal enthusiasm. "Adelinda! How are you feeling? Any better? Did anyone say anything to you, are you okay?" the older girl's voice was shrill and briefly, she reminded Adelinda of her mother. She smiled.

"Ginny, I'm okay," she assured her, sliding onto the bench. "Blaise tried to talk to me, but I just walked away…"

"Good," Hermione said firmly, her lips set angrily. "He has no business talking to you. None of them do."

Ginny shot her a scolding look. "Adelinda can talk to whoever she wants," she said, going on to add, "But I do agree with Hermione…"

"I don't plan on talking to him. I can't really trust him, can I?" Adelinda worried at her bottom lip. "But I don't know what I'm going to do about potions."

There was a moment of silence. "Slughorn heard about what happened," Hermione told her. "Changed the seats around. I don't think anyone realizes that it was because of what happened, though."

"Oh…well, that's good," Adelinda said. She wondered who she would sit next to now; she was relieved it wouldn't be Blaise. She did hope she got to keep her seat in the back. She liked being out of the way.

Having conquered her fear of going to the Great Hall, she dug in. She ignored the looks the Gryffindors gave her occasionally—nothing mean, just curious looks at her bruises. She hoped the bruise paste worked at least a little between using it and going back to classes. Harry and Ron ranted and raved about how Blaise shouldn't have left her alone and how he was probably involved, and she ignored that, too; it hurt, but they meant well. She had come to learn that Harry and Ron both treated Ginny and Hermione as younger sisters that they had to watch over, and that had spread to her as well, it seemed. As they clamored on about Zabini and those 'treacherous Slytherin girls,' Adelinda stuffed her face with warm food and after lunch was over, said goodbye to her friends. She didn't want to go back to her room now that she had left it; she was tired of being confined in that small space with nothing to do, but she wasn't cleared to go back to class yet. She didn't really want to, anyway; she would go to one of her favorite places in the castle, second only to the Room of Requirement: the library.

She had spent a lot of time here since school had begun. Her favorite section was the history of famous witches; there were so many powerful ones, so many intelligent and beautiful ones, and she looked up to them. Her parents had always tried to avoid using magic around her when she was young to keep her from accidentally telling someone at school, and so she hadn't had many magical figureheads as a child. She made her way to that section.

She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder and drew her wand, spinning around and away from the hand. She had her wand pointed at Blaise's shocked face; his hands went up to show he was wand-less. That didn't mean anything to her. "What do you want, Zabini?" she said in a monotone. He took note of her use of his last name and frowned. She felt a little bad, but it was in her best interest to distance herself from him. She would be civil, but not friendly. There was a difference, and it was the first time she had ever been anything but friendly to someone. Malfoy didn't count.

"I just wanted to talk," he told her, his eyes lingering on her bruised cheek. "And see if you were okay…"

"You could have done that while I was in the infirmary. You _should _have, actually," Adelinda said, her chest tight with anger that she hadn't felt towards him before.

"I was worried that you wouldn't want to see me," he said meekly, his hands dropping to his sides. Her wand was still up.

"_Vedo, _so you were worried I wouldn't want to see you but you weren't worried enough to come anyway and see how I was doing after _you _left me alone," Adelinda felt an immediate remorse at the words that sounded harsh to her ears. She didn't know where this emotion had come from and her polite tendencies had been pushed aside. "After _you _left me behind to deal with Parkinson."

"I thought they were gone—"

"I just think it's a little odd that you left me alone like that after being such a gentleman all day; I think it's odd that you left me alone after Pansy told you Malfoy wanted to see you, and we both know he didn't," she said.

"Would you lower that bloody thing?" Zabini was getting frustrated, she could see that, but she didn't quite care. She lowered her wand arm but kept a tight grip on it, ready to draw it again. She felt so aggressive; it was a new feeling, and an empowering one. "I didn't know what they were going to do."

She struggled internally. Should she use legilimency? She could figure out whether he was lying or not, but in her book, it was morally wrong. On the other hand, however, she would be using it to assure her own well-being; she wouldn't really go _into _his mind…she would just try to detect how he felt about the situation and his level of honesty…finally, she gave in. "So you didn't know? You didn't have any idea?"

She could _feel _his hesitation as he struggled to answer her question, and when he finally told her that he hadn't had any idea whatsoever, she knew that it was only a partial truth. "You had to have known," she prodded further, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. He was squirming beneath her gaze and she could tell it was making him angry. Good. "You had to have some idea. Why would Malfoy send Pansy and her friends to tell you, and not find you himself?"

"That's just how Malfoy is, you don't even know him," Zabini said, his voice as stiff as the set of his shoulders.

"I don't know you, either," she said, her eyebrows rising. "Yet I still find it hard to believe you had no idea." All he wanted was for her to believe him, because he liked her. She was cute, she was a little spitfire when she wanted to be, she was smart, she was Italian. Her only downfall was being a Muggle-born, but his parents never had to know. And he truly hadn't known what would happen; but he_ had_ suspected that something was amiss when Pansy had just so happened to know exactly where he was and send him off, and he had seen them lingering close-by as he had gone to meet Malfoy. He hadn't turned around, though. He hadn't thought about going back to ensure that Adelinda was okay; he had been more focused on his irritation at having to meet Malfoy. The two boys had grown apart after the war; their views had changed, their personalities had changed. Or rather, Malfoy's had. But now Adelinda knew about the suspicious he had had and his lack of worry for her, even if he didn't know that she knew.

"Call me self-centered, but I believe that if you are friends with someone, their well-being should be first in your mind," Adelinda said after a moment of just looking at him. He seemed a little confused by her words. She didn't care to explain. "Please leave me alone, Zabini."

"Adelinda, I'm sorry," Zabini said, his anger changing too quickly to remorse. "I should have come to see you, I know, there are no excuses…I should have walked you to the pub…" he took a step forward and she tensed; when he put a hand on her bruised cheek she raised her wand again, pointing it just under his throat.

"Leave me alone," she snapped, less politely. The librarian was walking towards them with a concerned look on her face; she had been so immersed in their conversation and figuring his head out that she hadn't noticed someone walk by and see her wand drawn and pointed towards him. She lowered her wand but kept her enraged eyes on his.

"What on earth is the problem over here?" the librarian asked. She and Adelinda had had a few conversations, and the older woman hadn't taken the student as one to cause trouble like this; when she saw her face her eyebrows furrowed. Perhaps there was more to the situation; her first thought was abusive boyfriend. "Mister Zabini, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the woman said. She was a few inches taller than Adelinda, mid-forties and beautiful; she reminded her of what Muggles called hippies in her colorful clothing and her long waved hair.

Zabini scowled. "Whatever," he muttered and turned on his heel, walking away. Adelinda could see the rage in his steps, heavy and loud, drawing the attention of the people he passed.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile of gratitude, her eyes shifting from Zabini's retreating form to Mrs. Cresswell's.

"Are you okay, love?" the witch said, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "He didn't do that to you, did he?"

"What?—" Adelinda's fingers rested gingerly against her own cheek, making the connection. "—oh, ah…no, he didn't…it was…well, bullying, I guess…it's been taken care of. It's just that he may or may not have been involved…" the words were getting caught in her throat. She chewed at her bottom lip even though it stung.

"Why on earth would someone bully you?" Mrs. Cresswell asked, taking a seat; Adelinda followed suit. She didn't want to talk about it, but the concern was touching.

"Because I'm a Muggle-born Slytherin who associates with Gryffindors instead of her own house," Adelinda answered after a moment with a little shrug, looking down. She crossed and uncrossed and crossed her legs again.

Mrs. Cresswell sighed. "Children these days," she said in a sad voice. Adelinda figured it wouldn't do well to tell her the 'child' who had caused the bruises was a twenty-year-old woman. "Well, as long as it has been taken care of and it wasn't Mr. Zabini who did it…"

Adelinda shook her head. "It's all fine," she said with a smile. The woman pushed herself to her feet and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You come here if you're ever in any trouble, or even if you just need to talk," the librarian said sternly. Adelinda smiled again. She was a sweet woman.

"Thank you," Adelinda told her again. She walked off to do her job, making sure the books were where they belonged and students were doing what they were meant to be doing.

She slumped in her seat once the woman had gone, leaning her head back. It had been a stressful week.

When Adelinda returned to classes a few days later, it was, for the most part, unnoticed; she kept to herself in most of them, but the few friends she did have had noticed her absence. Thanks to the bruise paste, her bruises had become faint enough to cover mostly with Muggle make up; only in very bright or dark lighting could you see them. Those few friends who noticed chalked her absence up to being sick; it seemed word _hadn't _gotten out that Pansy and her friends had essentially jumped her. She would later find out that that was McGonagall's doing; she had told the girls that if they spoke of the incident in any way, they would be expelled. The two girls that had helped Pansy had been given detention for a month and temporary confiscation of their wands; Pansy had been given detention for a month as well, and her wand taken for half of the school year; but she would only be given her wand back if she was on good behavior during that time. They had all had letters sent home, and if any of them got into anymore serious trouble, they would be expelled. McGonagall would have expelled them then and there if it weren't for the Ministry of Magic. Children of Death Eaters were to be given just a little slack; it was believed by some that it wasn't fair to punish them for the ideals that their parents had drilled into their minds. They believed that they could change the ones who hadn't changed already. They were just _children, _after all…though Pansy wasn't. Adelinda thought that it was bollocks, but the headmaster had done the best she could under the circumstances and for that she was grateful. She wondered if her parents had been told the girls' punishments and how they felt about it.

It was the classes that she had with Seventh Year Slytherins that were a bit troublesome; perhaps it was her imagination that they were giving her odd looks and whispering. She wasn't sure. It very well could be. But in the one or two that she had with Pansy, she _knew _the girl and her friends were giving her mean looks and that those snarky giggles were about her. Slughorn reprimanded them several times during one class period—for "talking during instruction," he said—and finally added another two weeks of detention to their sentences. They complained that it was unfair and stopped when he threatened to add another; and the dirty looks stopped as well. She sat next to a girl close to her age in that class now, still towards the back but not at the last table like she wanted; as long as she wasn't near Blaise or Pansy, she was fine. The girl was sweet and she made her regret not talking to her before; she had been so set on shutting out all of the Slytherins that she hadn't considered there could be more than one or two decent ones. They made a nice little group, chit-chatting about travel and classes and on occasion, boys; Penelope was her name. She wasn't very good at potions, but she was willing to let Adelinda help her. Perhaps a good thing had come out of what had happened.

Blaise had tried to talk to her since following her to the library; it was always a 'hey,' or 'can we talk?' and she always ignored it; after several times of being passed by, he seemed to get that she really didn't want to speak. That was when he sent her a somewhat lengthy, overdone apology letter; he told her how sorry he was that he had let Pansy and her friends do that to her, and he told her how he should have come to see her, or at least written her a get-well card; it came to her during breakfast one morning and she and Ginny giggled over the silliness of it. It was left on her plate with scraps of food.

She and Malfoy, on the other hand, had not spoken; she had contemplated sending him a little thank-you note for the bruise paste, but her pride got the better of her manners. Shyness took a small part in it, as well. If they passed each other by, they did not so much as look at each other. She didn't realize that he sometimes turned to check if she was looking after him. She never was.

Adelinda began to spend a little more time alone, unconsciously associating less with her Gryffindor friends; she sat with them at meals, but often skipped lunch to go to the library or the Room of Requirements to study or work on schoolwork. She still met Ginny there during her free periods, but Ginny had Quidditch practices and just as much schoolwork as Adelinda did, if not more—she had the O.W.L.s to take and, if she wanted to get out of school that year, the N.E.W.T.s. Neither of them took it personally. She did not attend the next Hogsmeade trip, and they didn't ask her to. She wouldn't have gone if they did, and trusted that they knew that. She was indifferent towards the village now. If she needed anything, Ginny had told her, she would get it for her.

There weren't many people left in the castle once everyone who was going to Hogsmeade had left; Adelinda hadn't realized just how many people participated. All the students she encountered were the First through Third Years; and most of them were on their way to see their friends in other parts of the castle. Adelinda was going to the Room of Requirements for the day. She wanted to sit around and read and write, and maybe get ahead on some of her classwork, if there was any left to do after her week of skipping lunch to do it. She had too much free time and nothing besides books and studying to fill it with.

Adelinda finally reached the Room of Requirements. She had her bag full of books over her shoulder, and she asked for a place to relax; when the door opened she stepped inside, but stopped; the room looked odd. Every time she came to it, she asked for the same thing; every time, she was given a room with big windows and shelves of books and huge, soft couches decorated with oversized pillows. She had her shelves of books, but scattered amongst the comfortable couches were leather arm chairs and one very quizzical looking Draco Malfoy.

"Oh," was all that left Adelinda's lips. Her cheeks were pink; she felt like she was intruding. "I didn't think anybody would be in here…" Ginny had told her that knowledge of this room was limited, and that she only knew of it because of something she had called Dumbledore's Army. They hadn't gotten too into the conversation; she had been meaning to ask her about it.

Malfoy shrugged. One ankle was propped on the opposite knee and he had a massive leather-bound book resting against his leg, his thumb resting against a page to mark his spot. "You're fine," he said lazily, reading as he spoke.

Adelinda turned to leave; she was disappointed that she couldn't hang out in the Room of Requirements for the day, but there was always the library, or perhaps she could see if Hagrid wanted any help with his creatures…or maybe, if she was lucky, no one would be on the Quidditch fields and she could fly. There were other things to do.

"You can stay," he told her without looking up. "If you'd like. I mean, you've already ruined my lovely leather décor." He gestured towards the homey furniture and the walls, some with windows and dark curtains, the others colored brightly and letting all of the sunlight in.

Adelinda rolled her eyes at the last comment and bit her lip, thinking on it. They had seemed to be beginning to get along before she had snapped at him…maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But then, maybe it would be incredibly awkward. "I suppose I'll stay for a bit. I'm alright here," she said as nonchalantly as she could, but Draco gave her a look that said she failed at the voice of indifference. She scowled at him when he looked away.

"Stop making faces at me," he said easily. Her cheeks darkened and he smirked. Instead of responding she took a seat in the fabric sofa across from where he sat, slipping her shoes off and folding her legs under her. She pulled a book and some papers from her bag. "How do you know about this room, anyway?"

"Ginny," she said hesitantly. "We come here sometimes during free periods."

"Ah," Malfoy said knowingly. "I'm not surprised."

Adelinda opened her book to where she had left off the night before, shuffling through her notes to see what she had taken down so far. "How do you know about it?" she asked curiously, shifting until she was comfortable. She began scanning through the words in her History of Magic book, taking down detailed notes. There was quite a bit she didn't know about the history of magic; the execution of it and the history of it were two very separate things.

Malfoy gave a one-shouldered shrug, glancing over at her. Their eyes met and she was taken aback by the way the sun hit his, making them look nearly white. "I just do," he told her.

She didn't say anything after that. They fell into a silence that was a touch awkward, but Adelinda let herself become immersed in her studying, and Malfoy tried to concentrate on his book. It was a book of Dark Magic that had been passed down and added to throughout and by his family over decades; he would (probably) never use any of it, but as a Malfoy male he was expected to know it. And, he could admit, it was interesting. It was what he had grown up around. He only read it in the Room of Requirements; Merlin forbid someone get nosy and figure out what it was. The Ministry was lenient with the children of Death Eaters, but not _that _lenient.

He was finding it hard to concentrate with Adelinda in the room, though. He had told her to stay if she wanted, but in truth, it was he that had wanted her to; he wouldn't admit it, but he liked her company. She was the only person who would freely argue with him and tell him how rude he was being. Not that it stopped him; but it made it much more fun. He liked watching her cheeks turn pink when he made her angry and the way her eyes gleamed when she was spitting his sarcasm back at him in the form of polite insults. He had never known there was such a thing until he had met her.

In the last few weeks, it had crossed his mind to strike up conversation with her when he saw her sitting alone in the library or walking to class by herself; after their last conversation, he wasn't sure how it would go, and he wasn't ready to be shooed away in the middle of a crowded corridor. That would hurt any man's ego. Instead, he had watched her every time she passed him. He found himself observing her every time he saw her, and it bothered him more than anything had in awhile that he knew the way she walked, that he could pick up her voice in passing; it bothered him that she caught his attention so easily and without even trying. He almost found himself feeling insecure every time he toyed with the idea of striking up a conversation, and _that _infuriated him. A Malfoy should not feel insecure at any time when thinking of a woman.

As a result, though, he had not even attempted to speak to her. He knew there was always the option of apologizing for the way he had explained his reasoning for helping her—and he did feel badly about it—but he was too proud for that. He had a feeling that she wouldn't want to hear any apologies, anyway. He had heard Zabini going on and on about how she had ignored his every attempt to do so (and that was something that he was glad to hear). He knew what Zabini's intentions likely had been with her; she was young, she was a bit naïve, and she had liked him well enough. Zabini didn't ask for anymore than that.

Draco scowled at the thought of it and caught Adelinda looking at him curiously. "What?" he snapped, and immediately wanted to take it back. She looked surprised at the sharpness of his voice.

"Sorry," she muttered and shifted awkwardly where she sat, going back to her book, but now she couldn't concentrate, either; she felt Malfoy looking at her. When she glanced up, she met his eyes. "Staring is rude."

"Weren't you just doing the same thing?" he said, raising an eyebrow at her. He slid a bookmarker between the pages of his book and closed it, resting his hands on the arms of his chair.

"I wasn't _staring," _she said indignantly, frowning at him. "You made a face. I was just wondering what you were thinking about. _You _were staring."

"I was thinking about how you remind me of Granger," he said. A smirk played over his lips as he watched her narrow her green eyes at him. "So bookish."

"You say that as though it's a bad thing," Adelinda said, and gestured towards the large book on his lap. "And you say it as you sit with a massive, ancient book in your lap."

"This is recreational," Draco said. "Don't you do anything other than study?"

"Don't you do anything other than criticize the people around you?" Adelinda shot back. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips set firmly in frustration.

"Look, you even do that thing with your mouth that Granger does," he told her with a grin.

"For Merlin's sake, read your book," she snapped at him, yanking her book up from her lap and using it to hide her face as she read.

They were quiet for a few moments. Adelinda was trying not to let him irritate her, but it was so easy for him to do; she got flustered so easily and she was so touchy about book-reading. As he had said, just like Granger. But Adelinda looked up to the girl, and it was insulting to her to be compared to Hermione in a _negative _way. "How have things been going with your Gryffindor friends?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. She lowered the book to glance over at him.

"Good," she said simply, raising the book again.

"No more trouble with Pansy?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Fair enough. How 'bout Blaise?"

He had hit a never with the last two. "Stop with your questions," she said sharply.

"Simply trying to make conversation," Draco said with a shrug. She was getting worked up and he loved it.

"Well, I didn't come here for conversation. I came here to study," Adelinda said.

"I didn't come here to spend time with _you, _but here we are," Draco told her with a raised eyebrow, and realized a bit too late how mean it sounded. Adelinda smacked her book down onto the sofa.

"Do you _realize _how bloody insufferable you are?" Adelinda said.

"Yes, I do, actually," Malfoy said happily. He wanted to take back what he had said—he truly hadn't meant it the way it had sounded.

"Let me remind you that _you _told me that I could stay when I was ready to leave without a fuss," Adelinda snapped. She pushed herself to her feet and started putting her things back into her bag.

"You would think a girl without a boyfriend would _love _to be in my company," Draco said cockily. He watched her throw her things angrily into her bag. She ignored his comment. "Where are you going?" he asked, frowning.

She looked at him. "What do you mean, where am I going? I'm leaving. You're being a prat."

"Hey, easy on the name-calling," he said. "I'll stop. Perhaps if you would try to hold a real conversation instead of just reading the whole time, though, I'd feel inclined to be a bit nicer."

She gave him a look of absolute disbelief. "Are you serious right now?" Adelinda said. "I'm not even sure why I'm still here. In fact, I really am leaving now. I thought that we could get along, but I suppose not. Remember this the next time you or anyone else says I've never tried to make Slytherin friends." Her eyes were glossy. Damn her emotions and her tendency to cry when frustrated enough. She snatched up her bag and made for the door, wanting to leave before the tears broke.

Draco saw the sheen of her eyes and his chest became heavy with guilt. He hadn't thought he would push her to tears, but he supposed after the things she'd had to endure lately, it was to be expected that she'd be sensitive. Women were odd, their emotions more-so. He stood quickly and grabbed her bag to keep her from moving. "Hey," he said, his voice taking on a tone that struck her as familiar. She had heard it when he had been in the infirmary with her, trying to get her to calm down enough to take the potions Pomfrey had been giving her.

"_What_?" Her back was turned to him, and she looked back over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shining and he wanted her to smile. He frowned at that thought and his lips parted but he didn't say anything. She huffed. "I'm _leaving. _I was so mistaken to think that we could get along—"

He pulled her towards him when she tried to yank away and she stopped, turning to face him. "What do you want, Malfoy?" she said, her voice aggressive.

"I'm sorry," he said simply, his hand on her wrist. They were inches from each other and she had to tilt her head to look up at him.

"I don't care, okay? You're just mean, I suppose, but I am not going to subject myself to—"

"Shut up," he groaned. "I'm not sorry for being mean. Well, I suppose I am. I—" he wasn't good at apologizing. "—I'm sorry for how the last time we spoke went down. That's why I'm trying to say, I suppose…"

"But I'm sure you still pity me," she said bitterly. "Apologize all you want, but _onestamente_? I don't care for apologies. Not yours or anyone else's. They mean nothing. I'm _done_ with you Slytherins."

"Don't judge us all from a few that you've had bad experiences with," he said, his voice serious

"Malfoy, you're one of the ones I've had bad experiences with—" she said, her voice raising in frustration. "—you were rude the first time I met you, downright mean, really—the first person I really had a conversation with here and you just turned me away! Who are you to tell me not to judge? And then Pansy—Blaise—all of you—you all say you've changed, you're better, but I would hate to see what you were like before because you're still so _terrible _to everyone—"

Draco didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the passion in her voice or her rosy cheeks. Maybe it was the way her lips moved when she was angry. He didn't know why he kissed her, but one second he was watching her mouth and the next second his lips were on hers and her words trailed off. When she didn't pull away immediately he used the hand on her wrist to pull her closer and the fronts of their bodies brushed; Adelinda found herself leaning up into his kiss, amazed by the little shocks going through her at the touch of her lips, and she forgot who was at the end of them as she parted them.

They kissed, his hands went to her waist, his lips moved softly against hers. And then he realized what he was doing and he pulled back; when he looked at her he wanted to kiss her again and feel the warmth of her mouth and her skin against his.

Instead he muttered an apology and turned on his heel, leaving her alone in the Room of Requirements.

**Hi guys! I know it's been awhile. A month, maybe? I lost track. I apologize for that! I'll try to update quicker this time. Remember to review, they keep the author encouraged and ready to write! :)) **


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